Junk of the Heart
by MilkywayScribbles
Summary: No one ever said letting go of the past was easy. Especially when one's holding onto items with meanings and memories. To Ash, what was stored in the attic was nothing but embarrassing reminders. But to Delia, they meant every step in the founding of her son's impeccable growth. And sorting through every token, made that all the more clear. Gift for my friend and beta reader.
1. A Small Town's Silly Tradition

**Author's Note:**

Wait? _Another_ story full of Pallet town mischief and drama? Why yes it is!

**I apologize about having to repost chapter one. There were a few adjustments that needed to be made in my writing, so I went back and fixed them. :) Also, while I appreciate feedback this is a project I am solely working on. Since this is a gift, I will not be taking any outside sources/ideas. **

While working on _Sunlight's Return_, I am also dedicating my free time to writing a short story (around four to five chapters) for my beta reader. This, like _Foolish Invincibility_, is a thank you gift for all her hard work and dedication as my editor for another year. She chose a Delia and Ash oriented story that takes place during the Indigo League season, around that time with all those wonderful filler episodes. So here it is! Also, like my previous works, various original characters that have added great charm to Pallet's already endearing environment will star in this little short too. :)

**GENRE:** While this story is mainly **family/humor**, there are elements of **angst** and minimal **drama**. What can I say? I am a lover for theatrical turmoil between loved ones! ;)

**PG CONTENT: **Rated ten and up for mild crude humor.

Also, the title makes **NO** reference to the song _Junk of the Heart_ by_ The Kooks_. Just had to clarify that in case anyone asked!

Now, please enjoy this heartwarming but silly tale! Especially my beta reader! I truly hope this is what you were looking for. I still can't thank you enough for all your help and encouragement in my work. You're the best. :) AND hopefully it's free of a lot of errors. I went through it with my sister at least three times.

**DISCLAIMER:** Pokémon belongs to _Satoshi Tajiri_._ Hee-Haw_ also doesn't belong to me. Any oc's belong to me. :)

* * *

**Junk of the Heart **

**Chapter 1**

_A Small Town's Silly Tradition_

The smell of spring blooms wafted through the air of the quaint town of Pallet.

Evening was setting in with such tranquil feelings it was the perfect place to sit and reflect with only the falling sun as company. That is, unless one was one of the many people attending another absurd yet comical town meeting which they were forced to squeeze in their schedule at the last minute.

Crashing into his seat of a fold out chair, Ash looked to Pikachu on his shoulder, who appeared less than thrilled to be out of the house. After a long day of training, all the yellow mouse wanted was to meet his master's comforter and snooze away with thoughts of pokechow and belly rubs on his mind. But to his surprise, he was hauled away along with Ash's family and their traveling companions' right after dinner. He thought they were going to do that leisurely activity of watching the big screen that flashes pictures and makes noise rather than go out somewhere.

Pikachu eventually released a little "chu" of a yawn and his eyelids drooped. Ash's eyes then softened as he gently combed his thumb through the fur on his mouse's head.

"Pikachu's really sleepy," the young trainer observed, his pets reassuring Pikachu everything was all right.

Beside Ash on his right, was Misty, who stretched her arms up in the air. "He's not the only one," she replied, letting out a soft groan from the stretch. Then, her head drooped down, arms lazily collapsing to her sides as she gazed straight on top of Togepi's sleepy head. Like Pikachu, Togepi was tuckered out and was trying to get some shut eye in Misty's warm lap.

Misty just wished she could have the same entitlement. "I'm so tired; I just wanna go home and take a bath."

"Yeah," Ash mused, "a bath does sound nice."

Suddenly, Misty smiled slyly. "I bet it does. You're probably due for one after going three days straight without scrubbing your hair," she sneered with mischievous sea-green eyes, knowing she'd get a defensive reaction out of her friend.

A quick narrowing of his eyebrows Ash's did, and his tone grew snappy and defensive. Misty guessed right. "That's not true!" Ash corrected loudly. "It's only been two!"

The clarification on how long Ash's tresses hadn't met hot water was something that didn't need to be advertised to the whole entire town hall. And Brock pointed that out rather steadily, as he leaned back in his chair with relaxed arms folded behind his head.

"Chill, you guys," he ordered calmly. "Let's just soak in this free time while we can. Just feel that spring breeze. Isn't it nice?"

A pause in thought, made the two exhausted trainers think, and consider Brock's words of wisdom. Or Brock's words of ceasing the bickering before it exploded into epic proportions. It was fair to say however, that something about the smell of freshly mowed grass, sweet nectar from trees, and the pollen of flowers traveling with the wind, brought a natural sensation nothing else could bring. With nothing but collecting badges, catching Pokémon, and making sure everything was in order before officially taking off to the Indigo Plateau and Ash and his companions hadn't fully noticed the change in the season till now.

Till they were sitting by doing absolutely nothing. Nothing but feeling the natural beauty surrounding them. Feeling what it was like to be calm and utterly relaxed again.

Staring off, Ash and Misty were in the midst of soaking in this estrange rush, their tempers almost down to a simmer. That is, till a voice with a Western accent broke the beginning of their meditation.

"Sure it might be nice now, but you won't be enjoyin' that breeze once it becomes an annoyin' draft." All eyes fell upon Ash's grandfather, who, was seated in between Brock and Delia, and looked less than thrilled to be at the town hall. With his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes closed as if deep in thought, he released an inner spiel. With each word the rant turned more into a growl of irritation and there was rise of fluctuation in his voice.

Never mind the concept of savoring a pleasant spring gust.

"And you'll surely not be enjoin' it, when you've been sittin' here for too long, listenin' to some moron ramble on about making profit off of useless crap while you could be home watchin' reruns of _Hee-Haw_."

Yeah. A run on of a spiel in which Ash shared glances with his friends, only to give perplexed looks back to the agitated farmer. They should have known by now how Ernest felt about everything. Considering he was the kind of man to voice his opinion whether it was wanted or not.

And like many times, it _wasn't_ wanted.

Sternly, Delia swiveled her gaze at her father. "_Dad,_ watch your tongue."

The last thing she wanted was people staring, and for a big meltdown to ensue. Not like that wasn't going to happen anyway. Usually two or more occurred at a town meeting._ One_ on a good day, but Delia had a churning in her gut that this meeting was definitely going to produce more than one uproar from her dad, or anyone else for that matter.

Turning with a prickled look, Ernest persisted. "You know it's true Delia! The only good thing about this is that it might force your mom to give up some of you and your sister's old baby clothes, unused bed-sheets that take up the hallway closet, extra Christmas decorations, and that damn sewin' machine she insists _I_ can fix."

There were some valid points in her dad's argument, but Delia felt conflicted when facing a reply. She, like her mother, comprehended the struggle of letting sentimental items go. Items that one day may have use to one, and that one would regret if thrown away or given to another. Not that Delia or her mother weren't giving people, it was just... they simply had too many wishes to accomplish, and too many good memories that were represented through fond belongings.

Definitely idealistic thinkers.

Letting her father's words soak in, Delia's expression only grew sharper. A raised brow contradicting his statement. "And maybe you could get rid of some of your old tools you_ don't_ use anymore," the farmer's daughter rebutted sharply. For as long as she could remember, Ernest held onto every tool he ever bought or received from a living or deceased relative. Being a farmer and a true outdoors-man, it was only natural for him to have a couple shovels, pitchforks, and hammers. But when the amount increased over three per instrument... Delia felt her dad wasn't much better than her mom.

"Now you know as well as I do that those are antique tools," Ernest hastily corrected, as if that clarification somehow made it better. "Ya can't just sell them off to some neighbor for free!"

To some neighbor for free... Misty in particular observed the heated debate between Ash's mother and grandfather closely, finding herself intrigued by their words. She had wondered since the start what this out of the blue called meeting was about, and after receiving a basic explanation from Delia, Misty got the full picture. Or at least she thought.

Returning her gaze back to Ash, Misty poked him in the arm to get his attention. "Hey," she called. The boy looked at her with blinking eyes as she cleared her throat. "So let me get this straight," the redhead started steadily. "We're attending this town meeting because of some fundraiser that's based on the profit of essentially selling junk?"

Ash paused. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

Quietly, Misty conducted her own reflective pondering, though it was Brock who spoke up for the both of them.

"Pallet sure has interesting traditions," the older trainer stated, stroking his chin as he gazed ahead.

Ash too whipped his eyesight forward, only to discover a middle-aged man with a slight weight gain, nicely trimmed gray facial hair, and a balding head approaching the podium in front of the room. It would have been foolish to pray someone else would take over the town meetings and that Tom bowed gracefully in retirement of the position. When Tom spoke, Ash either felt fidgety, slightly annoyed, or so bored out of his mind he wished for sleep to consume him viciously.

Slumping further in his chair with the bill of his hat partially covering his eyes, Ash sighed and grumbled. "You have no idea."

Right on cue, a loud slam echoed through the room as a gavel met the top of the podium's wooden surface. However, the townsfolk had grown so used to its repetitive performance they ignored the alerting sound and kept their side conversations going.

"Attention! Attention people!" And apparently, Tom's calls of undivided attention were blatantly disregarded too. Even by his fellow council members who were either sucked into their own discussions, or absentmindedly staring off into space, wishing they weren't there. That of course, was no surprise to the uptight man, though that didn't stop him from sighing in indignation. He felt as if he was the only 'adult' in the room at times. Never mind the fact that he very much acted childishly which only provoked everyone's natural instinct to dismiss him.

So with a roll of his eyes, Tom announced the one thing he knew would draw everyone's attention. "There are sprinkled and custard filled doughnuts in the back with refreshments!" he proclaimed, a slightly perturbed expression still crossing his face. If he could have bet a million bucks on his prediction he would have earned every penny, for all the faces in the packed room fell directly onto him, and silence dominated the once chatty atmosphere.

Feeling as if he had achieved great heights, Tom held his head up high and began the meeting. "Thank you. Now, as you all know our annual_ Junk of the Heart_ fundraiser is coming up next week to help raise money for our new grand sign in the making!"

Brock raised a brow, intrigued by this new development. "New sign?" he echoed softly.

"Tom wants to put up a new welcome sign for visitors after he got wind of Viridian's," Ernest explained in a whisper, but loud enough for Delia and the kids to hear. "Like we get any visitors in the first place."

That was new to all three of the trainers, especially Misty and Brock. They recalled Delia mentioning an annual sale coming up, but never the reason why. None of them could argue though that Pallet Town's welcome sign was in need of a new paint job. But to go as far as to totally refurbish the board with a donation of everyone's money? The community was tightly knit, so naturally everyone pitched in to make it the best town possible. Though, even knowing Tom as briefly as they did, Misty and Brock began to see why this might be well- a _nag_ to some.

"I highly advise everyone to begin rummaging through your garages and attics starting tomorrow," Tom insisted, soon elucidating all the important details. "By this upcoming Wednesday you all must have the required paperwork filled out and handed over to Annie, our coordinator for the event," he motioned to Gary's mother on the right, who waved back to the ground faintly to indicate her presence. "Then by Friday you must have a stand ready at eight o'clock sharp for the flea market, which will be inspected by yours truly."

The gesture Tom made so proudly to himself, caused Ernest to snort notably. "Shocker," he mumbled.

"There's paperwork?" asked Misty outwardly, trying to keep up with all the regulations of Pallet's flea market. She was surely surprised they went out of their way to file paperwork for such a small event.

Ernest huffed irritably with glaring eyes at Tom's forehead, as if he had heated pupils that could burn a whole through that thick skull. "You have no idea," he grumbled sourly.

Looking back ahead, Misty's eyes widened finally understanding Ernest's dislike for unnecessary town events... and Tom. "Apparently not," she said, soaking it all in.

"We will start the sale at nine, so_ please_ be punctual," Tom continued with heavy emphasis in his voice. "Snacks and drinks will also be supplied by the _Butterfree Inn. _And lastly, the sale will end around four so it is _very _important to get the word out to others outside of our community! The more people, the more spenders!"

"And that money from the inn ain't goin' to any stupid sign," Ernest huffed under his breath again, his vexation growing stronger at the mention of his wife's establishment being used for Tom's own profit.

Like a natural reaction, Delia hissed without moving her eyes. "_Dad_," she warned.

"With the counting of the earnings, we will follow up on the color choice and design of the sign in the next town meeting. But as for now, please go home and start sorting!" Tom encouraged excitedly towards the end of his announcement. "The more unwanted _but_ useful items, the more benefits the town will acquire! And remember, nothing broken or severely used is allowed to be sold! I _highly_ advise to read over the guidelines which are right up here on the podium. After all, we _don't_ want a repeat of last year's incident."

Somewhere in the crowd, Toms' eyes fell upon a certain individual, whom Brock assumed to be the culprit behind "last year's incident". It was too hard to identify though, and the faint laughs, whispers, and Tom's overall displeased look made the young breeder in the making wonder _what_ the incident was. He turned to the two people who would know.

"What happened last year?" Brock inquired, looking to Mrs. Ketchum and her father.

Delia bit her lip, as if unsure to answer, while Ernest just gave him a direct look. "Do you really want to know?" the farmer posed, hinting he honestly_ didn't_.

Uneasily, Brock's eyes darted for he was uncertain on how to reply.

Thankfully, Tom's gavel broke the awkward tension. "Meeting adjourned!" the older man declared.

It was then a flood of people rose up from their seats, and either ran to the supplied treats on the back table or to the front for to the thick stack of guidelines. To no one's surprise, Ash anxiously bounced up from his seat and made way to the place everyone figured he'd go.

"I'm getting a custard filled doughnut!" the boy announced, his feet anxious to start jogging before all the fattening goodies were gone. Brock and Misty decided silently to follow their friend, feeling their throats were in need of a drink. And well, it beat sitting there and listening to any more of Ernest's griping. Though they knew at heart, that was just part of his personality.

Starting their adventure towards the back table, they were suddenly halted by the same voice that had been complaining during the entire meeting.

"Save your mom and me each a maple one, sport!" Ernest ordered playfully over his shoulder, which was directed in particularly to his grandson.

Ash swiveled enough on his feet to return his grandpa's demand with a thumbs-up. "Got it!"

A smile finally swept across Ernest's face as he watched his grandson and friends skitter away to the sweets. Instead of jumping up himself, he figured he'd sit by and wait, for it appeared Leah was in the midst of a pleasant conversation with Annie, most likely about the sale. Ernest always patiently or not, waited for his wife to come over and sought it as a time to casually converse with his daughter.

As soon as the farmer turned back around, he was confronted with another pair of brown eyes looking at him. Only instead of chocolate, they were chestnut.

Delia's soft grin widened as he stared at her. "You still remember?" her tone appeared to be more of an accusation rather than a question.

Ernest caught onto his daughter's words, and smiled back with a pat on her knee. "'Course I do. You've liked maple doughnuts since you were a kid."

The reminder of the sweet childhood memory made Delia's smile remain. Like it had been for many, her grin was infections, infections enough for Ernest to brighten his expression in return. Though surprisingly, something stirred inside Delia enough for it to foam over and for it to diminish the dim of happiness she showcased vividly. With a slightly cocked head, Ernest watched his daughter carefully. She was retracting back into her own thoughts, and the thoughts appeared to be troublesome heightening Ernest's fatherly instinct to uncover the truth.

"You feelin' okay Del?" he asked nonchalantly, not wanting to pressure her into talking.

Eventually, the young mother swept her gaze to her father. "Yeah Dad, I'm fine," Delia reassured with a quick nod. But then, her eyes fell back into her lap, her hands loosely entwined with one another as she struggled to explain. "It's just- well, it sounds silly," she confessed with a weak smile.

Ernest's expression remained the same. "No it doesn't."

Delia whipped her eyes up. "But you haven't even heard it."

"What you say is never silly. Unless it's about namin' the miltank after your favorite fruit pies," he jokingly clarified, bringing up another childhood memory.

That was something Delia couldn't resist grinning at, feeling both silly at her younger-self and torn on how she should express her concerns. What she was feeling wasn't really a shocker to her, or probably anyone else. Still, it was hard to explain.

"Ash is going to be leaving for the league soon," Delia started, her eyebrows lowering. "I know I'll go up there eventually to see him but..."

"But?" Ernest echoed, waiting for his daughter to finish.

At last, she sighed out her final confession. "I'm going to miss him. It feels like he just got here, and now he's almost ready to leave again. It sounds selfish but- I don't want to see him go. Not yet. Not when we've barely had any time together."

The motherly feelings inside Delia were beyond understandable. Ernest knew how difficult it was for Delia to let Ash go, to permit him to travel and collect badges. Especially after all the chaos they went through before Ash's date of departure arrived. Both mother and son went on a roller coaster of an emotional journey, and found the needed strength that had been dormant for far too long. The need to trust one another and accept reality for what it was. And Delia had improved greatly in letting her worries and pain go. To accept eating alone during meals and be the only presence in the near empty house. But now, with Ash home like the old times... The times when he was attending school, going to work with her, running off to his secret hideout or Prof. Oak's lab, sitting across from her laughing and smiling at the dinner table...

At the faint reminiscing of her baby's constant presence, Delia felt her heartstrings being tugged. Ash was going to be leaving in a week and a half. And while Delia understood perfectly how much her son valued training and wanted more than anything for him to be happy and content- There was still, a small glimmer. A need to hold onto him just a little bit longer.

This expression, the tone resonating in Delia's vocal cords was nothing foreign to her dad, and without hast Ernest sought for a cure to her motherly woes.

Pondering in deep thought, his gaze traveled across the room and soon back to her. A very simple, but nonetheless brilliant idea burst into his mind. Heck, the farmer was surprised his own daughter hadn't even thought of it.

"Well," he began with a swallow, "maybe this fundraiser is actually a good thing."

Since when did Mr. Anti-social in anything involving the town's ridiculous developments claim the fundraiser was a 'good thing'?

Delia was perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"No one ever said sortin' out old belongin's is fun, but uh- at least it'd be somethin' you two could do together before you leave," he proposed openly.

In what felt like a long time since, Delia considered her father's words and appreciated the input he so willingly thrown out. After all, he too was trying to adjust to the big shift in their life, and come to terms with accepting his daughter as an independent woman. Not a little farm girl with freckles who needed his aid whenever, wherever.

"Something we could do together..." Delia pondered over the idea for a minute, appearing to deeply consider it. It's not as if she had no intentions of cleaning that attic. Time just always flew by so quickly, and with all the extra work she had been taking on at the inn as well as helping her parents... Some of the things that were up in that crowded space might stir some dormant emotions she wasn't sure of broadcasting willingly quite yet...

Eventually, Delia gleamed at her dad again. "You know Ash doesn't like cleaning though, right?" she posed, though there was a hint of humor in her voice.

Ernest chuckled back. "Hehe, whether he likes cleanin' or not, it's good for 'im. And I'm sure there's some stuff up there that needs to be looked at again._ Things_ that will remind you of Ash while he's away."

The implied hinting was heavy enough to make Delia smile. And silently agree.

* * *

While munching on doughnuts, the kids found themselves in a claustrophobic huddle, till Brock spotted a clear spot further away from the crowded table. So with goodies and their Pokémon in tow, the friends pranced over to the less noisy area, conversing in their own discussion with mouthfuls and sips of water. The warmth of the room from all the collected body heat was making Misty drowsy, however, the chatter itself kept her awake enough to start a new conversation.

A conversation in which she was intrigued by.

"So, are you gonna sell anything?" the redhead inquired, taking a sip of water from her water bottle as she balanced Togepi in her arms.

Ash shrugged, clenching his half eaten doughnut. "I dunno. Maybe."

"Ash, your room is packed full of stuff," Misty reminded evenly. "I'm sure you don't need _everything_ in there."

The explosion on Ash's floor was a dead giveaway on that topic. Whether it was garbage he was too lazy to throw away or many unsorted items, Ash had things to at least go through and sort. That, and Delia's constant nagging for him to clean his room before he left for the league was also pushing him onto the task. Misty and Brock even volunteered to lend a hand. But shrugging it off, Ash simply stuffed all the belongings back into the drawers of his dresser or under his bottom bed. Halfway stuffed that is, seeing part of the mess was still visible if the eye looked close enough.

Ash's brows narrowed and he frowned. "Don't look at me! Mom's the pack-rat," he claimed defensively, taking a big bite. "She keeps _everything._"

"Really?" Brock raised an eyebrow. He begged to differ. "'Cause your home looks pretty clean to me. And I would know!"

Dealing with a mother who changed her impending hobby every week, a father who was too exhausted and passive to keep up with his effervescent wife, and nine little brothers and sisters who were in continuous need of attention and toys _and_ naturally had a bad habit of leaving a mess behind wherever they went-

Brock knew what it meant to own too many luxury items. After all, there were _too_ many people in his house.

"It may look clean, but she keeps a whole bunch of stuff locked away in the attic," Ash continued to explain with a mouthful, backing up his assertion. Then, he swallowed. "She never goes through it."

"So you're saying she's never participated in the sale?" Misty asked again, somewhat surprised.

Delia was always the giving type, and Misty assumed with Delia's bursts of energy she'd go out of her way to set up a table, help the town, and reorganize her _already_ pristine house. Then again, considering Mrs. Ketchum both worked and ran a household by herself- in retrospect, it wasn't really a shock that she didn't take a peak in that attic. But it did make Misty wonder what exactly was up in that dark spooky place.

"Nah." Once the last nibble of his custard doughnut did its famous vanishing act, Ash licked the remaining chocolate frosting off his fingers. "Mom's always busy at the inn so she never has time. That and she usually just buys even more stuff at the sale. She's kind of addicted to antiques."

In a sense, Brock and Misty could see Ash's point of view. Delia did like to go rummage shopping, and as of late she had shown the kids the new knickknacks she had collected while they were away traveling rugged roads and climbing scary heights. Ash's mother claimed they were 'deals' she had found bargain hunting, which usually altered Ash to bare a very terrified look. To Ash, Delia always went overboard whenever Saturday Market was up and running, a vintage flea market, or when the coupons were coming like crazy in the mail that they had to make a mad dash to Viridian's Super Market, just to snag the soap dispensers and frozen fruit that were ten percent off.

Brock on the other hand, liked the idea of flea markets. For one, it was another easy way to meet girls, to practice his 'smooth moves' and 'words of enchantment'. That is, till Misty squashed his pro list with the reality that most women who went to market were _old_. _So old _it took them ten minutes in line to find a pen to write a check, forget and then have a sudden relapse of what to buy, and fumbling through their purses to find their fourth pair of glasses. That description didn't fit the profile of a fourteen to eighteen year old girl.

Even taking in that reality check, Brock quietly hoped they attended the _Junk of the Heart_ sale. And that a pretty girl would be swooned by his charms.

"Well maybe this year she will," Brock suggested, keeping his hopeless hopes at bay.

Ash just snorted with a wave of his hand. "I highly doubt it. Mom takes on big projects all the time, but nothing like that. She won't let go of any of that stuff."

In a sense, Brock could relate. Not that he was the kind to claim every piece of item held significance... but his _mother_ did. Like Delia, though more on the extreme side, Lola cherished all the little crafts, handmade gifts, and random sticks and stones the children found in the yard as precious treasures. Brock could vividly see Delia would be the same on a similar extent. She was such a dedicated mom as it was and Ash was her only child after all. Which meant she probably adored everything he gave her to the magnitude of having three little ones!

"You sure?" Misty questioned again, still a tad befuddled by Ash's affirmation. In her opinion, he was most likely embellishing. "Because I didn't get the impression that your mom's a hoarder."

Out of nowhere, Ash's brows creased again. Only this time it wasn't out of the annoyance of badgering or constant questions. It appeared as if he was insulted. "Hey!" he shouted. "My mom's not like that! She's a married woman!"

"What?" Brock and Misty exclaimed back in unison, severely perplexed.

What in the world was Ash talking about? They knew very well Delia was married, hence: they referred to her as _Mrs._ Ketchum. But what did the fact of her being a claimed woman have anything to do with-

With speedy thinking, Brock deciphered Ash's words for all of them. Another incident of miscommunication. Similar to the 'streaker' fumble in the sewers concerning a magnemite following Pikachu, when Ash actually meant 'stalker'. In exhaustion, Brock sighed. Boy did that kid need to get his vocabulary in check.

"Ash you're talking about a-" he stopped himself short, seeing the blinking stare he earned from Ash and the slightly unnerved one from Misty. He didn't want to say it out loud, nor explain to Ash the difference between the Shakespearean term for a lady of a night and _hoarder_. That wasn't his place, and seeing he already played big brother to Ash in many other uncomfortable situations, he decided to let that one slide for the day.

Feeling flustered, Brock adjusted his throat and continued. "Well, never mind what you meant!" he finally spat, trying to wrap his mind around it all. "What Misty means, is that she didn't think your mom was someone who _collects_ random stuff and can never let go of it."

"But it's not random stuff to her," Ash countered, already forgetting his mishap over delicate words. "It's stuff that she says has sig-signif-"

"Significance?" Misty finished, feeling a twinge of exasperation.

Ash snapped his fingers and beamed a smile. "Yeah! Like my baby pictures, clothes, and toys. You know. That kind of stuff."

Stuff he preferred her _not_ to advertise to everyone. Like many adolescent boys, Ash's childhood riches were embarrassing items that needed be tucked away and completely forgotten. All the self-exposed baby pictures and the tiny tikes toys were things Ash didn't want his friends to see. It was bad enough Gary felt the need to pick him apart and know some of his secrets, but his friends were totally off limits. They didn't have any need to see a bare-butt baby Ash or know how long he had to use training wheels. _No_ humiliation was going to go down.

"Well that's understandable," Brock said, again, relating to his friend. "My Mom does the exact same thing. And believe me she's got a lot of me and my sibling's baby stuff!"

"Guess it's just a mom thing then," Ash concluded, still faintly perturbed by the worry of his mother participating in the sale. So he tried to keep things in perspective for his own sake. "But I wouldn't worry about this whole flea market thing," he hurriedly assured, not wanting to give his friends the wrong idea. "We probably won't get involved which means- more training for us!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. The sudden exclamatory and excited motion shook Pikachu out of his dazed stupor on Ash's shoulder. And his ears twitched at the mention of the word 'training'.

And Misty's eyebrow did a different kind of twitching. Keeping Togepi close to her chest, the redhead cocked another artful eye. "You mean for _you_? You as in _singular_?" she corrected.

Ash just slumped and narrowed his eyes again. "Yeah, yeah..." he scoffed.

* * *

Just outside the quaint town hall lurked three undetected miscreants who, at the mention of doughnuts, felt their stomachs rumble with deep wanting and torture. _Custard_ doughnuts, and with sprinkles to boot!

They, unlike most residents in Pallet, did not care for the spring air. Especially not after having to sleep on park benches, bales of hay, and under trees with no blankets and while hearing strange noises in the night. But finally. Just _finally_ after snooping around the saccharine town and all its idiosyncratic characters within its jolly atmosphere- they _finally_ caught a break. And had their next big scheme mulling over in their conniving but not quick-witted heads.

No longer pressing her ear against the door and with a whip of her long magenta locks, Jessie cocked a wily smile at her partner. "Did you hear that James?"

"I heard them loud and clear, Jess," he replied, throwing a similar conspiring eye back at the young woman.

"Making money off of futile junk- We should have thought of that ages ago!" Jessie exclaimed. She felt robbed of the cheap, but equally brilliant concept. Then, she went back to the discussion at hand. "So you thinking what _I'm_ thinking?"

"We're gonna build a robot!"

James was cut short by their feline's sudden announcement, and was left puzzled on how to respond. Building a robot was not James's assumption, and by the cross look on Jessie's face, he assumed that wasn't what she was thinking either.

"Uh... I don't think that's what Jessie had in mind, Meowth," he finally said, slightly hesitant.

The declaration only made Jessie's thin brows narrow. "Robot?" She didn't have time for any nonsense, especially nonsense that didn't make halfway sense. "What in the world are you babbling about Meowth?!"

Meowth held up his paws. "Just hold onto your ponyta and let da genius I am explain," he said confidently, now gesturing to himself.

Jessie raised a brow. "Genius?"

"I beg to differ," James concluded for the both of them. "Meowth, you come up with just as many hair-brained schemes as we do!"

"Yeah! Who's to say this isn't going to end up in our top ten worst failures?!" Jessie added, equally if not more nettled than her partner.

"Just let me explain!" the talking cat shrieked out of defense. They really needed to calm down and listen! "I'm tellin' ya, it's a great idea!"

Huffing, the woman folded her arms over her full chest. "All right, fine. But it better be good or you don't get a turn sleeping with that raggedy cloth we found!" she hissed, giving fair warning. She _was_ the one who found that mangy left over piece of blanket in a nearby dumpster! That is to say, after _Meowth_ pointed out there was some cloth like material hanging out of the trash can.

Meowth casually waved a paw in the air. "No worries," he assured unruffled. "I've got da best plan ever!"

"Then spit it out already!" Jessie snarled impatiently.

"Okay, Okay! What if we steal some of dat old junk at dat dinky sale, and turn it into a massive robot to swipe Pikachu and da loot they made off of dat garbage!" the cat suggested rather enthusiastically through 'paw' motions and toothy smiles of prosperity.

But he appeared not to get the same fervor in return.

Crouched in their spying positions by the front doors, James and Jessie sweat-dropped in unison. They fell silent with slightly open mouths, staring directly at their feline companion with blank stares.

"Uh..." Jessie started, finding difficulty on how to respond.

"Yeah... I don't think so Meowth," James at last spoke on both their behalf's.

Rather confused, Meowth cocked his head to the side. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Jessie grimaced between clenched teeth. "Because it's a hardly well thought out plan of attack! _That's_ why."

"It ain't not!" Meowth argued. "If ya would just let me finish explainin', I was gonna_ tell_ you twos how I've been savin' all da parts I could savage from our past blown up machines! At least da stuff I could catch in the air," he admitted shamefully, recalling all the times they were blasted off into the stratosphere.

Like turning on a light bulb, Jessie and James's facial expression glimmered with a faint glow. _Now_ they were getting somewhere. They had to admit, it was clever of Meowth to stash away those semi-functional parts and keep them hidden in that knapsack of his.

James for a while actually had another assumption as to why the balloon had difficulty soaring very high in the air.

"Oh!" the blue haired man exclaimed, speaking without thinking first. "I was wondering why the balloon had gotten so heavy recently. I actually thought that was Jess-" A moment too late, James realized what he was about to say, and like an old habit, felt the death glare that was sizzling on the back of his head.

He hardly had a chance to glance over his shoulder and apologize, before a dramatic whack against his head with Jessie's fit caused his downfall. Colliding into the wood face first, James twitched erratically in pain, feeling the presence of a panting Jessie looming over him.

"How dare you question my weight! If anyone deserves questioning, it's you with all those sodas and puddings you eat!" he heard her snarl angrily above him.

Inconsiderate or not, who could blame the guy for assuming such? Out of all of them, Jessie usually took a smidgen of their already pathetic rations and she _had_ been complaining about her figure. Nevertheless, James hoped he had finally learned his lesson when accusing his partner's body to be the source of the balloon's lack of high air travel. Or more like _Jessie_ hoped he would.

"I think I see where you're going with this, Meowth," James eventually murmured weakly with his face still smashed ferociously into the deck of the town hall.

Meowth frowned at his human friend's pathetic position. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "No Jimmy, I don't tink you do."

Ignoring anymore of James's quivering and whimpers, Jessie did her own contemplating. Silently, she tried piecing Meowth's proposal together and weigh out the pros and cons against hers. Meowth's was definitely more elaborate. Then again, wouldn't it just be easier to snatch Pikachu at the sale and hightail it for the mountains with bundles of cash?

"Hmm... So you're suggesting with the parts we do have, we will steal some useless junk that will somehow make a new and complete robot?" Jessie hypothesized, looking to Meowth.

The cat raised his small arms up in the air. "Exactamundo!"

"I don't know Meowth," James shrugged haplessly as he rose slowly. He was wary of being attacked again. "It sounds like a bit of a stretch. Besides, we could always just ask the boss-"

"No we _can't_ ask the boss," his partner firmly cut in, still slightly vexed with him. "_For once,_ Meowth has a point."

Meowth's eyes shimmered at Jessie in amazement. "I do?"

"James, if we go to the boss for more money or gadgets, he's bound to have our heads. Think of our last interaction!" Jessie reminded firmly, the unpleasant thought vexing her all the more that she wasn't able to wear sunscreen that day. "We were digging up shelldar at Seafoam Island just so we'd be out of his hair! Then when we tried to do something with that Eastwood the Fourth guy, the twerps ruined everything!"

"Yeah," Meowth agreed solemnly, letting his eyes wander to the side in his own thought, "and dat Persian got to drink all dat organic milk out of a saucer_ and_ sunbathe..."

There was significant validity in Jessie's stern reminder. After failing their entire trip through Kanto in both Pokémon napping and rare Pokémon sightings, Giovanni was less than pleased with their results. If they dared to go crawling back to him for more money, Jessie was one-hundred percent sure one of them was going to be the new throw-rug in his office. Their boss, as of late, had been extra unsettled not only by their pathetic efforts, but everything in general. He appeared twice as snappy, twice as impatient, and _twice_ as ruthless. Even his little vacation on Seafoam Island spoke of the less than semi-tolerable tones. Whispers around Headquarters before the big unexplained explosion, spoke of something leaving Giovanni's mind very restless. Or_ someone_.

Projects, Pokémon, or whoever it was, their additional trouble to Giovanni's already severed temper wasn't helping out the dastardly trio in their schemes of success. Which left them to tie all the loose ends of their objective without any assistance.

Feeling the small hairs on the back of his next stand on end, James released a sharp squeal. "Eeek! You're right, Jessie," he agreed, taking note of his partner's words. "I don't think aggravating the boss anymore would be wise. But how are we going to build a robot in time before the twerps leave for the Indigo League?" James seriously questioned, looking at all angles. "And we don't know the first thing about assembling machines!"

"Calm down!" she ordered, not liking the whiny tone he was using. "We'll figure something out."

James's brow wrinkled. "You're not seriously considering this idea are you?"

"We've done worse," she reasoned bitterly with closed eyes. "However... I don't know if we'll be able to build the robot in time."

"So..."

Both Meowth and James lingered that impending word anxiously, watching their teammate deep in thought with the final verdict. Then after a few seconds, her blue eyes flashed open with confidence and certainty. As her mouth moved, they held their breath and waited.

"We will execute my plan which is: go to the sale incognito, nab Pikachu and the cash... and anything else we might find," Jessie concluded with a slip of a weak grin. What could she say? Even for being a Team Rocket agent, she had wants and needs too! Like a new hairbrush or fingernail filer. She was tired of gazing at her uneven chipped nails.

With drooping ears and a pain in the heart, Meowth gleamed at Jessie as he fiddled with his paws. "Can my robot _at least_ be a long-term plan?" he proposed meekly, shy eyes prying for approval.

Another pause came. "...Perhaps."

The tone Jessie used indicated more of a 'no' than an 'I'll think about'. As if a soft violin was playing its pathetic strings in the background, Meowth sunk into a depressed state. A 'woe is me' pout as a spouting of tears fell from his tear-ducks. Those tears were the result of a cat with high hopes to make the next grand scheme come true, and to not only be treated with respect by his comrades, but by his _boss_ as well.

"Why me?" the cat yowled, covering his face dramatically with the back of his paw. "Shot down again!"

Coming to his side, James patted the feline's back with sympathy. "Don't get down Meowth." The man bore a soft smile with a twinge of reassurance, trying to be the middle man between the cat and his female companion. "You'll get the spotlight once the boss is in a halfway decent mood again... And when we pay back our debts," he added, the truth biting him in the butt.

A pathetic sniffle fell from Meowth's mouth as he glanced up at James. "Yeah," he sniffled again sourly, "and when's dat gonna be?"

"Oh, quit your blubbering!" Jessie growled. She was sick and tired of this pity fest, and didn't see any need for it to carry on. Her plan was flawless and much more logical than the construction of a robot that would take weeks to build. Then again, it would be quite impressive if it was built by their own hands. Plus, if it all went over well, Giovanni was sure to give them some kind of bonus... But it did come from Meowth. And last time Jessie checked, Meowth didn't have long luxurious magenta locks which meant_ he_ wasn't supposed to make any of the big important decisions.

Seeing that her harsh remark wasn't doing much good in easing any tears or stress levels, the woman sighed and attempted to come off in a more- gentle manner. "At least we have a plan set in stone and the satisfaction that this will not fail," she assured, faintly for the sanity of her teammates.

Another abject whimper fell from Meowth furry lips. "How so?" he croaked, big eyes looking up again.

"Because we will dress so exact to all these people in this silly little town that we'll blend in without any suspecting eyes."

Meowth smeared a last tear and huffed at her hypothesis. "At least dat's your prediction," he huffed under his breath.

"That _is_ what's going to happen and this_ is_ going to work." Jessie could feel her blood boil with a speeding righteousness, a poetic speech on the horizon to motivate their plans. That's about all they had left to push them forward. "Team Rocket agents aren't supposed to steer away from a fight! We're supposed to take challenges head on with the passion of determination flowing through our veins!"

"Or the passion of cholesterol," James sarcastically mumbled, a ring of low pessimism in his voice. What they could scrounge for food, it had been lacking various required nutrition.

That was thankfully for his sake, gone on ignored by Jessie as she went on being consumed in her forced enthusiasm. "By next Friday, that money and Pikachu will be _ours_. Say it with me team!" she commanded with strong perseverance in her voice. "Let's make the boss proud and get on his good side again!"

If they were ever on Giovanni's 'good side' in the first place.

In most cases, the trio was much better at fantasizing the result, rather than actually executing it. This occasion entailed only one however, who found enough durability to withstand the usual downs and upsets after losing too many battles. Jessie had, to admit to a point, that her zeal was partially forced as was the riling up of her partners. The least they could do was to pretend it'd go over well. She wasn't the only one feeling sleep and food deprived!

"I said, say it with _me_," the magenta haired woman snapped between her teeth, egging on for their usual cue to take off.

But James and Meowth stayed slumped in their silent position, looking twice as down and exhausted as they previously were. With Meowth's ambitions squashed and James simply plain and tired, neither of them really had any energy left to get excited about a strategy that was still in the beginning stages of planning. And another mention of doughnuts on the other side of the closed doors was really aggravating them.

Sighing, James looked to his partner with dreary eyes. "I'm sorry, Jess. It's just the hunger pains."

She was about to say something in return, only for her to ironically be hit with a familiar rumble in her gut. It groaned loud enough for James and Meowth to hear, and for a streak of pink to skim across Jessie's cheeks. Her irritability and demand did heighten when she was under extreme amounts of stress. And _none_ of that was good for her beautiful mind and body.

"I see what you mean," confessed Jessie as her chin fell to her chest, her voice wavering jadedly. Then, a yawn took over and a need to leave the forsaken platform after a fifth faint mention of rainbow sprinkles and chocolate frosting. Oh the torture! "Let's just get excited about our new plan tomorrow," she suggested, waving casually.

Without hesitation, but still worn out, James nodded. "Agreed."

And too did Meowth, in both self-pity and weariness. But especially self-pity. "Agreed," he breathed.

* * *

Without delay and full stomachs, Ash and his companions merged through the crowd again. It appeared the cluster of people was thinning. Slowly but surely civilians were leaving and seeking sanctuary back in their homes. The kids too felt tempted to run home, jump in their pajamas, and pop in a movie, but their main objective, was handing over the doughnuts to Delia and Ernest. _Then_ they could officially leave.

So with swift feet they walked down the small walkway and waltzed to Delia and Ernest's seats, presenting the treats to them promptly.

"Here are your doughnuts!" Ash proclaimed, he holding each of his relatives promised sweets.

The doughnuts appeared untouched, the maple glaze fully intact with no bite marks on the side. Though, it wouldn't have surprised Delia or her dad if Ash snagged a taste out of each of them.

Reaching out, Ernest took the doughnut and nodded. "Thanks, Ash."

"Thank you, pumpkin," Delia said gratefully, gently taking the dessert wrapped in a napkin.

They were about to indulge in their treat that minute, which enticed Ash to insist they'd head home till- At the sound of soft footsteps, Ernest's eyes glistened warmly. Glancing to the left, he spotted his wife approaching their little gathering, thrilled himself that she was finally ready to go. And that Tom and the rest of the council crew were making their way out.

"Ah, there's the lady of the hour," he announced sweetly, making Leah's lips crack open and turn upward. She stopped next to his seat, though he got up speedily to stand with her. "All finished up?"

"I can thankfully say, yes," she sighed. These were just the beginning stages of business stress with the inn's preparations and Tom's heckling about the sale. Being so naturally quiet and even, Leah never stirred much of a complaint. It was a gift that she had obtained, and seeing she was one of the very few people to remain so cool and calm in the toughest situations, Ernest swore his wife had the temperament of an angel.

Batting tired eyes, Leah still didn't forget the natural courtesy to acknowledge her grandson's friends. "Hi, kids," she spoke kindly.

Both Misty and Brock waved back together casually. "Hi, Mrs. Parker."

"How are you doing?" Brock politely pressed.

"Oh, fine. It's just the busy season again. But when is our town not busy?" she contradicted with a faint chuckle, the thought of _all_ the town events rattling through her brain. There was something for_ every_ season and what felt like _every_ other month.

"Very rare, apparently," Misty answered this time. After Ash filled them in on all the other special occasions and normal holidays every other place would celebrate, Misty could only imagine how much coordinating Leah was faced with on daily basis.

Chocolate eyes grew as Ash took notice of his grandmother's empty hand, prompting him to perform the task he just did. "Hey, Grandma?" he called gently, receiving her attention. "Do you want a doughnut? I could go get you one," the boy offered, gesturing to the back table.

Leah's smile grew and she shook her head. "Oh no, sweetheart. I'm fine. I can just share with your grandpa. I'm sure he won't mind." The nudging of Ernest's arm inclined for him to willingly hand over the treat, and he did so with a gruff sigh, but smiled nonetheless. He knew Leah was just playing with him.

Carefully snatching the dessert, she gestured a wave and began her steps to the front doors. "See you all tomorrow. Rest well."

"Thanks," the three trainers said in unison. "You too."

Another grin was exchanged between Delia and her mother, as was a motherly pat on Delia's shoulder. She nodded back at her mom as if understanding their silent conversation, and then did the same with Ernest.

"Goodnight kids," the farmer said, opening one of the front door for him and his wife. "Sleep well, Delia."

The young woman nodded back. "Thanks, Dad. You too."

From there, Ernest threw one last glance at Delia before strutting off with Leah by his side. She watched attentively as they left, and the anxiety bubbling inside her brewed harder. The simple look over his shoulder, indicated to Delia for her to take a chance at suggesting the sorting of their belongings to Ash. There was a definite feeling of her wanting to ask him such, but as to when and where... Letting her contemplation rest, Delia flashed a smile at the three adolescents standing before her. Then, she motioned towards the door with her head.

"So, you kids ready to go?"

They all shared a glance before answering. "I think we've been ready all evening," Brock answered for he and his friends, till a yawn caused the last of his words to be garbled.

Delia's smile softened. "I can imagine you're all sleepy. And for suffering through this, how about you three decide the movie for tonight?"

Ash eyes were the first to widen in excitement. "Awesome!" he exclaimed, raising his arms up.

"Thanks Mrs. Ketchum," Misty added, her enthusiasm on the calmer side.

It wasn't long before Delia tossed her purse-strap over her shoulder, Ash snagging one last doughnut for the trip, and for Brock to open the front door for them all to make their grand exit. Leading the way home while chewing his last bit of a glazed doughnut, Ash turned around and walked backwards as he casually beamed at Misty. He saw a spark in her eye, one that he bore as they both quietly devised a plan. A plan Brock anticipated would be brought up to him.

"Hey Brock," Misty eventually called for his attention as they walked along the dirt road, "do you think you can make popcorn with that special blend you use before we start the movie?"

He figured as much. His secret recipe of seasoning was a big hit with Misty and Asg, and even Delia admitted she'd appreciate it if he'd slip her the list of ingredients. So he did.

The older boy laughed softly and nodded to his friend. "Sure, Misty."

"Oh, and could ya throw in some _M&amp;M's _and a few peanuts too?" Ash didn't hesitate to ask, eager to taste the mixture of sweet, buttery, and salty.

Another laugh, but much louder one escaped from his throat. "If you want, Ash."

There was a delightful feeling inside Delia as the mother watched the innocent exchange between her son and his friends. Never did she want to take away Ash's remaining free time, nor spoil any last minutes he had to squeeze in another training session. But what about them? Their relationship? They had hardly done one single thing together since Ash's tenth birthday party, and that reminder pained Delia as she realized he wasn't at home for his eleventh. No preparations of a cake, no agenda of setting up streamers and balloons, and no buying any presents...

Delia's smile shrank. Time was slipping faster and faster than any of them anticipated, and Delia knew in the back of her mind she'd end up regretting _not_ asking Ash what he'd like to do. The preparation for the big sale would be at least a new special memory to add to their lengthy list of ones. And it would probably be one of the last memories she'd share with her son for a while. Even if he did refuse and out up a fuss, at least it was a shot, and Delia could live with that than not trying at all.

"Uh, Ash?"

Ash stepped back and peered over his shoulder at the call of his name. "Yeah, Mom?"

There, Delia stopped in her tracks, eyes gently locked with her son's big chocolate pupils. Nervously with a slipping of a grin, she started. "Grandpa and I were talking... and I think we're going to participate in the sale with Grandma."

Panic and disbelief rose to the boy's head. He gulped, trying to hold down his explosive reaction. "You mean, you want to _clean_ out the attic?" Ash clarified. Since when? And what brought this up? Ash wondered if it was something Ernest had said, or if it was just a little plan his mom had been cooking up the entire time. Either way, he wasn't thrilled.

Delia's grin grew sheepish. "Why not?" she shrugged. "With you kids here you can help me, and who knows! It might be fun!"

'Fun' wasn't exactly the word Ash would use to describe cleaning out forgotten items that were in disarray and covered in layers of dust that would set off a hundred sneezes. Nor would his impending nightmares of laughs and jabs be 'fun' to face. A shiver of worry spiked inside the boy as he froze in alarm.

"But of course I don't expect Brock and Misty to feel obligated," Ash's mom was kind enough to state, looking to Ash's friends with no intent of causing them any stress.

A sigh of mental relief exhaled inside Ash. That much was reassurance. He believed, he could guarantee Brock and Misty to decline from Delia's suggestion, and hopefully the mention of them being his 'coaches' for the league, was much direr than rummaging through embarrassing tokens. After all, that had been the task they were all so dedicated to... well, besides exploring mountains, running errands for Delia, visiting his grandparents, and somehow getting into trouble with the likes of Team Rocket.

But still even with all those distractions, they went out of their way to properly train for the league.

Tragically however, Ash was given a big letdown.

"We wouldn't mind helping," offered Misty willingly.

"Yeah," Brock agreed, just as forward. "For letting us stay with you, we're happy to lend a hand Mrs. Ketchum. It's the least we could do."

Immediately, Ash's jaw dropped open. _Seriously guys?! _Had he not explained to them that Delia was unlikely to fall through with it?

It was inevitable for them to be polite no matter what the case, however, Ash would have bet money that his friends would have seen things his way. Between Brock's sharp reminders on strategies and Misty's persistent hounding to work harder even when Ash was growing bored or tired, he kept at his training. Then, the one time he expected them to fall through for _him_, they didn't! Instead, it seemed as if Misty and Brock _wanted_ to join in on all the Pallet Town traditions and Ash couldn't stomach that they'd let their kindness and intrigue take over the importance of battle tactics.

Scoffing softly to himself, Ash continued to watch the scene unfold in utter shock.

"That's so sweet of you both. I really do appreciate it," Delia replied, genuinely glad. The excitable glistening in her eyes lingered to her son's forming grumpy face and with loving persuasion she hoped Ash would make the arrangements solid. "So what do you say, honey?" she asked, eagerness stirring in her voice. "Help Mom with one_ last_ chore before running off to fulfill your dreams?"

At first, Ash wanted to cry out 'no way' or 'you've got to be kidding me'! But for some reason, the trainer held back his tongue. There was this look in Delia's eyes, a warm hue he had seen before. And was beginning to understand. Like many devoted mothers, Delia felt like a basket-case when Ash was away, and having him home even for a short while was a slice of heaven to the woman. That Ash knew very well. He hated it when he saw her depressed, or cry, or feel utterly alone. Too much witnessing of such distraught emotions had been shown to him, and Ash never wanted to be the cause of his mother's discomfort. Still, it was hard for the eleven year old to let go of selfish desires and see the whole picture for what it was worth.

_Does she not get that I've got training to_ _do?_ Ash huffed silently to himself, eyes gleaming up at the setting sun._ The league is only a few weeks away and she wants to clean out the attic? What is she_ _thinking? _Sooner than later, Ash's gaze traveled back to the others, and was instantly hit with a sharp glance and a raised brow. He released another internal huff._ But she HAS given me a lot of time to train and now Misty's giving me one of those: 'do the right thing' looks. Ah, man! This is so not fair! I don't wanna clean! The only upside would be-_

He paused at that point, realizing how much of the time he had been_ avoiding_ extensive training. But still, he was somewhat on top of it! Feeling a tad foolish, Ash twisted his mouth and thought more in depth about his decision. It certainly wouldn't kill him to roll up his sleeves and get in and clean. Delia had only asked for him to help with the sorting and cleaning, not necessarily the sale. Which was fair enough, considering he'd still have ample opportunities to train.

I_ guess I'll just humor Mom a little bit,_ Ash at last decided, a small smile gracing his confident lips._ Besides, I HAVE been training AND improving a lot. It's not like I've been doin' nothing... _

Wandering eyes lingered back to his awaiting mother, which he could faintly see the suspense crossing her face. With consideration, Ash allowed the apprehension to end. "All right," he breathed with a nod. "But can we wait till morning to start? I'm really tired."

The sorting through items still wasn't enticing to him. But Delia didn't mind.

As the mother's heart sang at her son's confirmation, her smile grew simultaneously. "Of course, silly."

TO BE CONTINUED...

* * *

**Author's Note:**

For the record I ADORE Jessie, James, and Meowth and ADORE writing for them. I don't know why, I just do. :) I guess it's because I had to preview some of season one again, to make sure everything flowed correctly during their stay in Pallet, which brought back very fond memories of these three. To me, Eric Stuart, Rachael Lillis, and Maddie Blaustein MADE these characters. They were just awesome like that.

Anyway, that's the end of chapter one! I really do hope you're all enjoying the story so far, and be prepared for more laughs and heartfelt moments as the clean out the attic. Can't help but throw those in! :D

Oh and lastly, I do know the correct name is Westwood the Fifth,_ not_ Eastwood the Fourth. That was of course done on purpose, similar to how I had Jessie and James fumble over Prof. Oak's name in another short story. Sorry. Just had to clarify that!

Thank you all so much for reading and reviews are greatly appreciated. :D Please stay tuned!


	2. Heartfelt Words

**Author's Note:** So after I laid out my entire plans for this short story, it appears it will be no more than five chapters. Originally, I had planned four chapters, but an extra chapter was begging to be done. ;) I hope to still post once a month, and _maybe_ even twice this month because of school drawing to a close for spring break... but we'll see! I can't promise anything.

May I say however, that this chapter took a long time for me to construct. I don't know why, it just did. I had a whole slew of ideas laid out for it since the beginning, but for some reason it was challenging for me to piece it all together at first. It's like that kind of writer's block where you know WHAT to write but it won't come out into words when you type it...Hopefully the product is solid though! I've slaved a good few hours over this to make sure it was worthy of being posted. And of course, I truly hope my beta reader will enjoy every ounce of chapter two! Thank you again for being soooo patient with me! My sister and I also read over it a few times, so hopefully it is mostly free of errors.

**DISCLAIMER: **_Pokémon_ belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. My oc's belong to me.

* * *

**Junk of the Heart **

**Chapter 2**

_Heartfelt Words _

Everything was in order that morning.

Right after breakfast the whole Ketchum household was in preparation for the big task ahead. While taking on kitchen duty, Brock and Delia worked at a decent pace, putting away every spotless dish, as well as both scrubbing and attending to the full dishwasher. As for Misty and Ash, they kept themselves occupied with bed making and laundry, which Ash lazily participated in. He wasn't much for chores to begin with, but the big day ahead was the true perpetrator of his cankerous state. For the most part, Ash kept quiet during breakfast and found difficulty pulling himself out of bed. Half of the night he had dreads for the big cleaning spruce in the attic, his stomach rumbling with sincere worries. The pros to taking time off from training were beginning to look dismal compared to all the frightful possibilities of exploring the attic.

Too many thoughts stirred within his mind, both of his excitable mother and friends. The inclination of Delia showing off all his embarrassing tokens of childhood screamed of ridicule and jeers from his traveling companions, a cluster of impending mock filled laughs making to the top of his worst nightmare list. Thinking such predictions Ash knew was foolish to a point. Misty and Brock weren't like that. Never had they made him feel so low and pathetic, similar to how Gary and the past neighborhood bullies did. Still, it was a feeling Ash couldn't help but entertain. After all, he had received plenty of snide remarks and harsh chortles in the past. Being called a "mama's boy" took the cake, and he feared heavily that whatever was stored away in that attic was enough evidence to make that demeaning name official with source material.

_Why can't Mom just wait to clean out the attic when Brock and Misty AREN'T_ _here_? Ash silently wondered to himself, insecure eyes peering back and forth between his two relaxed friends._ I mean, I know she'd miss the sale and everything but she can sell her stuff another time. And I wouldn't mind helping, but with them_ _here..._ A sigh slipped from his lips, and another gleam of worry shown through his chocolate hue. _ I just found some great friends! I don't want them not to treat me the same way anymore. What will they think? Will they still like me? _Then, he gulped with fidgety fingers. _Maybe I'm over thinking this- but still I don't have a good feeling about this..._

Standing with tense muscles at the top of the stairs, Ash waited for his mother to return from her last minute venture of gathering of supplies with Brock and Misty at each of his sides. Mr. Mime waited with them as well, standing with his own prepared damp cloth and duster. He was to take on the job of cleaning the items being wished to sell, while Pikachu and Togepi helped 'sort' what was stored above. The plan Delia concocted the night before seemed to be logical and easy to follow. If they all worked together there was no reason for anyone to complain...

Misty in particular, peered a curious eye at Pikachu and how the mouse couldn't manage to snag a smile from the corner of his trainer's mouth. All morning the girl had observed her usually lively friend to be rather quiet, which was out of the norm for the kid who jumped out of bed with so much enthusiasm for the day that he had enough energy for _three _people. That and Ash's lack of a ravenous appetite during breakfast was another dead giveaway in itself, stirring a genuine worry within Misty. She didn't understand why Ash's behavior bothered her, but nonetheless could not dismiss as being nothing.

"You okay, Ash?" the redhead spoke up with a touch of concern. "You seem kind of anxious."

"I'm not anxious," the raven-haired boy answered quickly. "Why would I be anxious? I'm good."

Creased red eyebrows reared their way at Ash, till the sound of a pleasant soprano voice spoke up the stairs. "Sorry about that, kids; just rounding up the cleaning supplies!" Delia revealed herself with a warm smile as she sat down a box of various disinfectant bottles, rags, and a couple of dusters in the hall. She was in a chipper mood, much more enthralled with the task ahead than her frowning son.

Brock smiled back at her explanation. "No problem Mrs. Ketchum." From there, the breeder in the making observed Delia fiddling with the heavy foldout stepladder, immediately feeling the need to lend a hand. "Here, let me get that for you," he offered promptly with swift feet.

Delia grinned back as he took charge and lined the stepladder up with the attic door above. "Oh thank you, Brock…"

In no time at all the ladder was already up and ready to go, and that haunting door would fall open at the tug of the metal bar at any minute… Ash's throat slid down another gulp as he stood by anxiously, and Misty's eyes weren't timid at all of gazing back at her unnerved friend. Then, the sea-green hue grew in surprise.

"Ash, you're shaking a little," Misty commented, though her tone was nothing but soft and concern.

Chocolate eyes refused to gleam at her. "No I'm not."

Another lowering of her mouth and eyebrows reigned across Misty's face. She didn't see the need for Ash to get this agitated over a pile of old forgotten things. Sure the attic was bound to hold embarrassing items that would make Ash's cheeks a dark red, and yes, Misty believed he wouldn't care for the way his mother would most likely react to the findings like any other ten year old. But so what? It wasn't worth him working himself up into a panic attack, and at least he_ had_ childhood tokens his mother managed to keep. Unlike some who would be grateful….

"Ash, if you're nervous about going up there then just say so," the redhead finally blurted, not at all shy in her declaration.

"I said I'm _not_, Misty. Jeez," scoffed Ash with a head twirl, "get off my back."

Get off_ his_ back? All she was trying to do was help! A twinge of annoyance burned inside Misty, and she was about to let him have at it, till the same soprano voice thankfully ended the beginning of the first argument for the day.

Delia looked to all three of the kids with absentminded eyes. "All right," she proclaimed excitedly. "Everyone ready?"

A huff was heard somewhere in the huddling of the kids.

"Yeah, I guess..."

Ash's silent resistance hadn't changed much as his mother took liberty of checking the available space. With a slight propping of the trapdoor, Delia's chestnut eyes squinted, already meeting what looked like a grouping of dust-bunnies. Anticipation however, didn't fully bloom inside Ash till his mom at last swung the small door open all the way, making way into the small space with just a flashlight in tow.

"Be careful Mrs. Ketchum," Brock was the first to say.

Cautious eyes watched Delia as she crawled on her hands and knees, her presence eventually slipping into the dark space above. Sounds of faint rattling of boxes and footsteps bounced in the trainers' eardrums, alerting them to Delia to shuffling about in the dark. In no time at all, she managed to locate the small chain dangling from the ceiling, discovering with one single poll that the lightbulb still operated. It flickered for a moment before steadily lighting the attic, and then with a quick skimming of the crowded room, Delia felt the security was fairly sound.

"All right!" she called from above. "I think it's okay for you three to come up now. I've got the light working."

"Okay," Brock replied. "We're comin' up!"

Being a gentleman, Brock let Misty be the first to climb up the stepladder. He and Ash watching her back as she carefully traveled with Togepi in her arms, soon earning a helpful hand from Delia on the first step into the attic.

"Watch your step," she warned with a motherly voice.

Graciously Misty took her hand and settled herself on the creaky boards, skimming the attic and all its contents. It wasn't too much colder than the house itself and while it was dusty, the attic wasn't filled with gigantic cobwebs hanging on the walls or massive dust-bunnies peaking around the corner. The dirtiness was just- minimal. There were many boxes, all stacked neatly with labels and taped down lids. Lamps and other tall items were also lined up against the walls, everything mostly out of the way to prevent any tripping hazards. Delia may have collected many things, but at least all her belongings were fairly organized in the dusty cluttered space.

"Wow," Misty gaped, eyes traveling across the dim-lit attic. "This attic is so small."

Delia placed her hands on her hips as her gaze journeyed too. "Yeah, but it's held a lot over the years for us," she agreed with a faint smile.

Shortly after Misty's arrival into the attic, Ash, Pikachu, and Brock emerged with the cleaning supplies, leaving Mr. Mime below in the house still waiting to fulfill his part in the big project.

Seeing they were all gathered, Delia gave the okay to start in. "Go ahead and pick a spot of where you guys want to sort. And maybe one of you wouldn't mind handing the things we want to sell to Mimie to clean outside?"

Immediately, Brock raised his hand. "I can do it!" He never minded any extra jobs. The idea of cleaning excited him, while most turned the chore away and forget about it in a month's time.

Delia smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Brock. Now, I think a lot of my things are over here..."

As Delia went about in her search for personal items, the initiative for Ash to do the same was left unspoken. And while he stood unmotivated, Misty decided to give the little push he so desperately needed. A promise had been made to his mother to partake in the less than thrilling task, and while Misty knew Ash not so secretly wanted no part in it, she knew deep down Ash _didn't_ like to disappoint him mom. She just wondered how far her friend was going to take this little disinterested charade.

"So is there any spot you want to sort Ash?" the redhead casually asked, setting Togepi down to explore the space with Pikachu.

"I dunno," Ash shrugged, glancing about. "It all looks the same to me. A bunch of piles of boxes and Mom's extra décor."

Before Misty could respond to that, Delia's voice rang over the cramped attic. She glanced over to her son, already sorting through a box of what looked like to be old china dishes. "Ash honey, the boxes should be labeled so anything with your name on it go ahead and look," the mother explained, making two piles of dishes she wished to discard and keep.

Ash kept his bitterness for the task inside as he replied. "Okay, Mom."

"But let me look at what you find too!" Delia suddenly interjected as her son was about to locate one of his prized boxes of 'treasures'. "I don't want you throwing anything away that matters!"

That, he couldn't help but internally scoff at. _Yeah, _Ash silently grumbled, _stuff that matters to you…_

"So can we start anywhere?"

His internal dialogue was stopped at the questioning of Brock, which filled his already dreading mind with more worry as Delia beamed an innocent smile back.

"Sure, Brock, Misty. Just pick a pile," Ash's mother instructed.

"All right."

Wandering eyes watched Brock and Misty closely as they began their digging through piles. Brock picking a taller heavier stack, while she stuck to lightly backed belongings. Anxiety soared however in Ash, as Misty opened a cardboard box. And by the pulling back of duct tape, she discovered a small variety of shower curtains as well as kitchen ones. To Ash's relief, he sighed.

"How about these curtains Mrs. Ketchum?" he heard Misty ask.

With a soft creak of her knees Delia rose to take a look at the find. It took her a minute, but she soon recalled the purchasing of those curtains, the particular floral pattern one Misty was holding up... back when Ash was just an infant.

"Go ahead and hand those to Mimie," Delia sooner than later decided. "I've got so much stuff it's about time to let those go," she added, gawking at her surroundings. She almost felt embarrassed for letting the attic go so long without permitting in a single peak of light in the bleak darkness- other than simply adding _more_ storage then closing it again.

Across the short space, Ash again, couldn't resist a sarcastic roll of his eyes at his mom's comment. "Yeah, and let go of _my _stuff…" If only wishes like that _could_ come true.

Soon after, Delia was already passing the sorted dishes for Brock to put in the cleansed hands of Mr. Mime. At the fast rate she was going, Ash needed to pick up the pace of his sorting, before everyone looked to him and his still filled sections of boxes.

Coming by with a steady armful of plates and bowls, Brock glanced at his friend. "Did you say something, Ash?" he questioned, lowering is filled arms down in the opening for Mr. Mime to empty.

Ash grew anxious for a moment, turning his guilty expression away. "Uh, no."

At the same time a sneeze slipped from Pikachu's petite nostrils, accidentally taking in the whiff of some dust Togepi decided to knock off of Ash's box with playful feet. Hopping down, Togepi ignorantly skittered to Misty for whatever reason, and left Pikachu scrunching his nose in dislike.

"You okay buddy?" Ash softly asked, petting the back of the mouse's neck as he crouched down. Then, in the absentminded act of letting his eyes travel, Ash's expression eventually morphed into something horrific. "Hmm?" Shortly after, a gasp fell. Thanks to Togepi smearing away a thin layer of dust on the box in front of him, a titled written in black sharpie, was uncovered. A very embarrassing one at that.

_I can't let Misty and Brock see this!_ Panicked, Ash's eyes gleamed behind his shoulder. Brock was busy doing a balancing act as he held clanging rusty wind chimes and Christmas wreaths, much too distracted in not dropping anything to take notice. But Misty on the other hand-

"Watcha got there?"

Ash nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt his friend's breath ride against his neck, hands quickly diving to cover the humiliating title.

"Nothing," the trainer speedily responded, eyes refusing to look to hers.

Misty lowered her eyebrows. "Ah, c'mon Ash. Let me see-"

"No way!"

The hasty removal of Misty's hand away from his caught her by surprise. Nevertheless, she kept her cool and allowed her stern expression to get to the bottom of his secretive state. "Why?" the redhead boldly questioned. "You think I'm gonna laugh?"

"Yes!" Ash not so shamefully responded.

At first, a sympathetic quivering was felt in Misty's heart as she stared back at the flushed boy. Then, whatever understanding she felt was overshadowed my logic. The fact that she would _never_ make fun of him in the context of his innocent childhood. A part of her felt in insulted that Ash would even think so.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Misty argued back, urging how ridiculous the whole presumption sounded. "I swear, I'm_ not_ gonna laugh-"

"Ash!"

The sweet ringing voice of Delia once again broke Ash and Misty's fixed glares. They both looked up to the woman, and Ash in agitation answered.

"What Mom?" he groaned faintly.

"Look what I found, honey!" his mother exclaimed. In Delia's grasp lay a canary yellow photo album with a precious print of squirtle and pysduck splashing in mud puddles across the cover. Ash cringed.

"All your baby photos!" Delia continued, beginning to flip through the book. Her smile grew immensely after glancing at the first page, and soon a soft motherly squeal followed. "Oh, this brings back so many memories."

Memories that Ash would prefer not to bring up in front of his friends. It would have been perfectly fine for her to flip through that book if it was just she and him, where he could feel secure without any judging eyes. But that wasn't the case in his narrowed view. So being the insecure adolescent he currently was, Ash's complexion turned a deeper shade of pink and his voice wavered slightly in irritation and anxiety. "Mom, can you please look at those later?"

But Delia was too caught up in the moment to hear her son's pathetic plea. "Oh, I remember this one!" she instead gushed, leading to her taking a seat on a sturdy heavy box. "This was your first big outing."

"Your first big outing?" Brock chimed in, curious himself.

"We went to a picnic my parents were hosting," Delia explained, looking to the kids for a moment. "Oh you were just so tiny and precious. Well, you still are!" she couldn't help but giggle, adoring the sweet expression her son still bared.

Another rush of anxiety swept up Ash's back. "_Mom_," he urged desperately again. "Can I _please_ have those?"

"Sure, sweetie."

Luck was finally coming Ash's way thanks to his mother's absentminded deliver, till Misty swiftly barged in his way and snatched the book.

"Hey!" he screeched, charging after her.

She simply flipped the book open with hand, and pushed him away with the other. His lame attempts at getting her to maneuver his way weren't working, and when Misty released a sweet smile and a coo Ash froze with twice as heated cheeks.

"Aw, Ash!" she too gushed, looking to him with sincere eyes. "You were a cute baby."

Ash's embarrassed glow transformed into a serious one. "Was not," he countered.

"Yes you were! Just _look_ at you. You and your mom look so adorable together."

The pointing of Misty's finger led to the image that was to most, undeniably precious and pure. Wrapped in a soft green blanket, and a charming magby decorated onesie secured on his petite body, a some odd month old Ash laid cradle in his mother's arms on a picnic bench. Delia in her long auburn braids, glowed with such youth and happiness, while Ash, gleamed at his mom with big chocolate innocent eyes, much like hers. It was a perfect capture of a new mother and her overall joy in accepting her new role.

Even Ash had to admit, the photo was a nice and heartwarming picture... but it wasn't an appropriate picture to show off to his friends.

Ash's frown stiffened. "We do not."

Coming over with just as much curiosity as Misty had, Brock joined the huddling of the must see photos, and grinned a silly smile for another reason. "Wow, Mrs. Ketchum you were really pretty- not that you're not pretty now!" the breeder hurriedly corrected, feeling a tad foolish for his outburst.

"Don't worry Brock," Delia assured, too preoccupied going through more boxes to think anything of it. "I understand what you meant."

The comment itself however, was not taken so lightly by the madly blushing boy saddled between his two nosy friends. First, Misty deemed his baby pictures as 'adorable' and now Brock was making a subtle pass at his mother's younger self? This was definitely not what Ash wished to experience up in the attic. It may not have consisted of harsh jeers yet, but the implications of him being cute like a newborn poliwag or the reminder his mother was severely graced with natural beauty was another awkward altogether.

Closing the photo album shut, Ash's childhood was hidden away from the prying eyes of Brock and Misty. "Let's just get back to work," he ordered with both firmness and embarrassment in his voice.

Narrowed red brows gleamed at the conscious boy as he went back to sorting, though the confused shrug she received from Brock made Misty resist in pestering Ash anymore. He was being childish, and while it was growing annoying there was not much she or Brock could do to ease his overly sensitive worries. If anything, something just as humiliating or possibly more would be uncovered in that dusty space.

And something did with revenge.

Continuing on with the sorting process, Ash was knee deep in his mother's many assortment of linens and tablecloths. He couldn't believe how many of these she collected over the years. Several he supposed by the looks of their condition and style, were most likely handed down from his grandma, and then from _her_ mother. Thankful to the boy's dismiss, Delia willingly took the trouble of sorting the cloths herself and in the end gave away more rather than kept. If only the mother was more amenable at the idea of ridding of her son's belongings...

Speaking of which, that box Ash originally found, the one he was so determined for Misty not to peak at, was still sitting over there untouched. And he had no clue how to get it past his mom with her constant patrolling... Then, a distraction came.

"Uh, Mrs. Ketchum?" Brock paused for a moment once he gained the woman's attention. Then, his eyes wandered back to the discovered piece of furniture he found hidden away by several stacks of boxes. He wasn't sure how to phrase his questions. "What would you like to do with this um... crib?"

Staring at the uncovered crib, Delia blinked back in surprise. But soon, a tiny smile emerged. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot all about it!" she exclaimed lightheartedly, waltzing over.

Ash on the other hand remained where he was. "Me either," the boy mumbled with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Great. _Another_ thing his mom was going to gush over.

To Ash's amazement again however, Delia was not in the midst of 'gushing' over the past of his infantile state. She was instead, quiet and her once beaming expression of content transformed into something dreary. As she thought about it, a look of faint sadness crossed Delia's face. She was, internally afflicted on what to do with the crib. While the logical decision was egging her to finally be rid of it, a part of her was having a difficult time letting go. At first, Delia wished the forgotten piece of furniture would have stayed forgotten and nothing more. But now... A flash of once blissful hopes of the past clouded her foggy mind, and then the painful reminders followed after without any mercy. Never was she able to have that second baby she always wanted.

It hurt too much to think more of it, and with a sigh Delia bravely came to a conclusion. "Hmmm... Well, I suppose there's no sense in keeping it," she declared, though it was obvious there was a twinge of despondency in her voice. "And I'm sure there's a mother out there in need of a crib. It's actually still in good shape," she noted, examining the eggshell painted structure. Even if it sounded somewhat chipper, the positive outlook of Delia's decision didn't seem to waver the dejection seeping from her vocal cords.

Misty was the first to catch onto this, and found herself slipping into a frown as she observed Delia. "So I'm guessing this was your crib?" the girl more so stated than inquired.

Ash caught Misty's glance and put his guard up again nervously. "Yeah, what of it?"

"Nothing," she answered sincerely, ignoring his defensive state. "I think it was only natural of your mom to keep it for so long."

"Why?" he blinked, truly confused.

"Because she probably thought-" Stopping midway through her sentence, Misty pondered what she was about to say. If she said _it_, the girl deduced it would only make things three times as uncomfortable as it already was for Ash. That and if he wasn't catching on then, what was the use in explaining his mother's inner woe? Sighing, Misty allowed it to pass. "Oh, never mind," she huffed.

As their conversation ended the trainers missed the halfway mark of another, finding Brock and Delia coming to a conclusion on some details. Trying to bear a faint smile, Delia said, "We'll get the crib out last, Brock. With that small of space it makes me wonder how we got it in the attic in the first place though," she soon pondered, a peculiar looking crossing her face.

Quickly, Brock answered the mother's wondering with logical deduction. "It seems the legs were taken off so that might have helped."

Of course. Being reminded of such, forced Delia's mind to swirl back in time to that cloudy day. The day when Ash was no longer in need of his crib, and who was there to help her with the new moving, and arrangement. And that crib, even if it was completely useless now- it still brought back so many warm memories of Ash's babyhood. Like a single sip of sweet hot cocoa on a chilly snowy winter's day. And Delia could recall it all like it was just yesterday. The mother couldn't count how many nights she had gotten up and checked on her once wailing baby in his beloved crib, and how many times she found that her once dedicated husband had beaten her to the chase. Rocking Ash back to sleep in his arms, gently patting their baby's back with a soft soothing tune that only a loving father could voice... Then, the gentle fluttering of Ash's eyes becoming shut and his once chubby fingers loosely clinging to his father's t-shirt. The babe was sound asleep.

In the arms of him.

A surge of euphoria burst through Delia's heart at the thought, and then it all melted away as the depressing reality swallowed it up in one single gulp. Still standing strong however, she nodded back to Brock in agreement and found her fingers delicately tracing the siding of the crib.

Then, she sighed.

Wandering off to another unattended pile of boxed belongings, Brock watched Mrs. Ketchum with peculiarity. He had a hunch, but kept his thoughts to himself as he went back to work. Thankful to Ash, his mom hadn't made the crib escapade a larger than life incident. Instead, he too was beginning to feel something change in Delia's original cheery disposition. Something about the crib... He couldn't pinpoint his mother's silence, other than she was having a hard time letting it go simply because it was a memory of a time when things were simpler and easier to enjoy. Nonetheless, the boy didn't think much of it and went back to work.

And he still couldn't figure out what to do with that troubling box.

* * *

As if distractions were falling from the sky in order for Ash_ to _come to a solution, another big discovery was made.

Tucked behind worn outdated stripped lawn chairs, was a bright yellow tricycle whose little wheels were coated in cobwebs. Besides dust coating the outside, it bore a few minor scratches of chipping paint. But overall, the little trike was in fairly decent shape. Delia took note of its condition as she revealed it to the world around her, a large smile growing from her lips. Finally, a distraction to get her mind off of those painful memories and hopes. After all, she had struggled to sort through things for the last twenty minutes or so, and now here was something to lessen the pain.

Immediately, she flashed her gaze at her son who was too preoccupied fumbling through another box. From there, she lifted the trike up and placed it out in the open, calling for his attention. "Honey, look!" Delia exclaimed. "It's your trike!"

_Trike?_ A long internal 'no' screeched inside Ash's mind as he watched his mother so giddily show it off. Then, the boy's hair stood up on the back of his neck with a mixture of different feelings swirling in his gut. He remembered the trike all right, all the good times he had riding on that dinky contraption in the front yard, ringing the silver bell, going every which way. It was a warm fuzzy feeling. When he was younger, it probably was _the_ favorite birthday gift he had ever received from his parents. Yes, the trike was definitely a favorite of his at one point and now with its big comeback- he didn't want to dismiss it. But at the same time he did.

"You kept that?" asked Misty, surprised at this rate for it seemed her friend wanted to be ridden of everything that was connected to his young childhood.

Ash fumbled for a moment. Misty's tone didn't speak of facetiousness. More so, curiosity that he had no idea how to respond to. Why was everything so confusing and complicated while performing this simple task? Maybe it was because Ash was making it twice as difficult as he needed to be. His foreboding fears and anxiety were still eating at him.

"Uh, well um-"

"It still looks pretty good all things considering," Delia went on noting to the rest. She was still busy cleaning off all the dust-bunnies who decided to take residence on it.

Brock finished handing off another box to Mr. Mime, and then peered over his shoulder. "All things considering what?" he asked, wanting to jump in on the conversation. He just took notice of the uncovered yellow trike.

Delia lifted her gaze at Brock. "Ash used to ride this trike everywhere whenever he could," she answered warmly, the sweet thought of her little boy with very impish features and baggy clothes while wearing an oversize helmet engulfing her mind. The thought of her son's once toddler self lightening the bleakness she was experiencing earlier. At least she had him. "He was however, not too attached to it after wanting a _bike_ soon after," she also took note of with a playful mischievous eye. "All the other big kids in the neighborhood were getting bikes."

_Big kids?_ Ash felt another sharp shiver run down his spine at his mother's innocent word choice, though it wasn't so innocent as it left another embarrassing mark on him. Sure he was only four at the time, but did she _have_ to put it like that? With his_ friends_ there to hear_ every single_ word?

Misty grew a smile with a similar glimmer, catching on. "That doesn't surprise me. My guess is the wanting of a bike had something to do with Gary?" she added with a sly eye, gleaming to Ash with a raised brow.

The mention of his dear lovable rival left Ash in a sour state, his dark brows narrowing with a fold of his arms. "Maybe..." he grumbled.

Maybe actually meaning:_ yes_. Gary, in the process of loosing his front teeth, practicing penmanship and reading rolled up one day on his all mighty bike, painted blue with flashy lightning bolts decorated on the side. And he didn't just have a silver bell. For one thing, it was gold and it also came with a sleek basket. Not a "girly one with flowers" as he noted. As long ago and fuzzy as that memory was, Ash hadn't completely forgotten the experience. One of the first markings of their blooming rivalry.

_You have a_ _trike?_ Ash recalled Gary snubbing, pulling up all cool on his bike next to Ash's fence line. He had a band-aid on his elbow, showcasing his first injury from riding._ I've got a bike with training wheels! _And all Ash had was apparently a downgraded trike. Listening to how it sounded now, Gary's words seemed rather ridiculous. But at the time, it hurt. Hurt so much he begged endlessly for a bike, which he didn't even get till a year later for his next birthday. When Gary was _off_ of his training wheels. Oh, the irony.

And it would be _twice_ as ironic if Gary showed his face at the sale and dared to rudely suggest that Ash didn't bother selling any of his precious childhood keepsakes... That he and his 'mommy' couldn't let go of them.

Either dismissing or simply unaware of the mention of the overly confident Gary, Delia went on reminiscing. "I still can't forget the look on your face when you found out this was your big birthday surprise. You were so happy you couldn't wait to go out to the front yard! Oh, there were so many times when your father-"

It was not that Delia was interrupted. Rather, she stopped speaking herself. She had mentioned _him. _As she was still in the process of forgiving him, and talking about him was still a touch awkward. Especially after digging through so many stored items, items that he owned or that he picked out for her... Then of course there was the letter-

Brock and Misty froze with blank stares, unable to move or know what to say. They weren't informed of Mr. Ketchum's entire whereabouts or why exactly he wasn't in the picture, but to their surprise Ash wasn't afraid to pursue his mother's statement.

"When Dad what, Mom?" Ash asked with slight meekness, sensing the tension wafting through the air.

Slowly, Delia met her son's gaze. She sighed, eyes drawing back to the trike. "When he'd pump the tires over and over again... for you- because you rode it so much," she added with a bittersweet smile, the image of her husband doing such a task playing faintly in her head. It didn't last long. "But enough of that," Delia hastily dismissed, trying to put on a brave face. Now_ she_ was feeling a tad embarrassed.

From there, she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, adjusting her voice with what seemed like a forced smile.

Brock and Misty exchanged a look. Were they missing something?

"So sweetie, do you want to keep the trike?" Delia eventually questioned.

Ash twisted his mouth at his mother's question. It was a hard decision to make. Half of him wanted to sell the trike, and the other part didn't. He honestly did hold many fond memories of that dinky trike. Simply riding on it around the yard and knowing it was from _both _of his parents. One of the very few things he had from his dad... Briefly, Ash glanced to Misty and Brock who seemed to be waiting for answer as much as his mom was. If he didn't sell it, then what would that make him look like? A kid who couldn't let go of things he clearly couldn't use nor need anymore? That he couldn't help but hold onto everything from the past? That these feelings would be exhibited in the presence of his two _older_ companions?

Sighing, Ash came to a conclusion. "I- I think I'll put it in the sale."

Instantly, Delia's brows lowered. "Are you sure?" she pressed.

"Yeah," he at last confirmed. "Yeah, Mom. I'm sure."

"Well, all right," she breathed, almost sounding defeatist. Was Ash really going to sell the trike? Delia would have sworn he'd keep it. After all, even when he was imploring for a bike he made it clear he didn't want his trike to be taken away. Especially since her absent husband took the time to pick it for their son, to pump those tires repeatedly... So Delia pressed again. "But honey, this is _your_ trike," she reminded, the motherly sweetness still in her voice.

"I know," Ash replied without hesitation. "I just don't need it."

That was true. There was no use for it. He was clearly too big for it, and it would be only natural and healthy for him to stick to the bike he already had stashed away in the backyard. Still, the trike was special. At least it was to her...

"You're right. I'm sorry, Ash. I guess it's just me!" Delia admitted willingly, blushing a little as her hand was pressed against her cheek. "I mean, after all, this is a piece of you. And who could love treasures and memories like these more than your own mother?"

Ash rolled his eyes. "A mother who wishes she could have children."

Without hesitation a shrill appalled gasp leaped from Delia's throat. What was the matter with him? "Ashton! Shame on you!" she scolded openly. "You should never wish that onto anyone! Having a child is one of the most beautiful things in the world," she preached, speaking on experience alone. "You'll understand one day when you have your own little ones."

Ash huffed at this, trying to hide the humiliation of his word choice and his mother's typical response.

So instead, he countered her argument. "I can't exactly get pregnant Mom."

Delia faltered and bit her lip. "Well maybe not-"

"_Maybe_?" he interrupted, fear and confusion rising through his young mind.

At this point, Misty couldn't help but slap her forehead. How much more uncomfortable could this get? The last thing she wanted to hear was a sex ed lesson performed by Delia and a soon to be grossed out Ash who probably believed girls had cooties. Well, maybe not probably. Misty was sure he thought that.

"Okay, you can't have babies _that_ way," Delia clarified quickly with a sigh, easing everyone's anxiety. "But when you are married to a lovely woman and you have beautiful little ones you'll understand why being a parent is so precious. And I'll spoil them as rotten as I have you!"

With a lack of a warning, Ash was unexpectedly swept into a gentle embrace of by his mother. This took the cake as the most degrading part of their whole attic escapade. He didn't mind a side-hug, but a full on one? In front of his friends? Rotten as I have you... Ash sighed as he listened to his mom's heartbeat. Delia meant well. There was no denying that. But with a reddening face, Ash wasn't sure he could handle another ruffling of his hair or a rehash of his 'too cute' childhood moments. Or the grand delusions of him being married with children. After all, girls _had_ cooties.

Oi, he needed a break.

* * *

A few minutes went by, turning into a half an hour. The attic was mostly if not, almost entirely sorted.

In the process, they all discovered nothing more than typical items of fake flowers, cooking books, vintage holiday cards, vases, and more holiday decorations. It was a laborious task, but between the kids diligent cleaning, Pikachu and Togpei's exposing of more belongings, and Delia's quick decision making the four were truly making headway in the keeping and giving process. Eventually however, a childhood relic, actually quite a few, were unearthed by the least person to make a spectacle: Brock. He, for a moment, paused as he stared at the boxes reading the various titles. There was one specifically for Ash's toys and for his baby clothes. Smiling a little to himself, Brock soon traveled his gaze to his hurriedly working friend who was continuously flooding Mr. Mime's arms with more of his mother's useless knickknacks.

After a few seconds, Brock was finally able to capture Ash's attention. "Uh Ash?" he called, motioning his way. "I think I might have found some of your stuff. Wanna take a look at it?"

He froze, an impending fear riding in his gut. But he didn't let it show. "Um- yeah, Brock."

He approached his friend's side and with the lifting of the filled boxes into Brock's arms, Ash read the couple of titles and bit hard on his lip. As if guilty for his future actions, the trainer glanced over his shoulder long enough to find Misty and Delia occupied, giving him the perfect opportunity to at least avoid another uncomfortable incident.

"Actually," Ash started slowly, "just go ahead and hand that stuff to Mr. Mime. I don't want any of it."

Brock raised a brow, looked down at the boxes then back at his friend. "You sure?" He never kept all his childhood treasures, but Brock wasn't ashamed to admit he kept a few that mattered greatly to him. Discarding things with heavy significance was something the breeder knew he would regret if he didn't.

But Ash was certain. "Yeah. There's no need for it-"

"Ash, you should at least go through those boxes before selling anything inside. I'm sure they're full of treasures you might want to look at!"

A cringe shot through the boy's body as Ash's head spun to Delia's maternal beaming gaze. Why did she have to keep interfering? At this rate, Ash wasn't going to get anything past her, and there was no way he could truly explain what he was feeling to his mom. He couldn't do that with the pictures, the trike, and now this... Ash simply assumed that she wouldn't understand.

"But Mom, I really don't need this stuff," he insisted as evenly as he could. "It's just junk."

"What is it?" Delia inquired anyway.

This time, Ash couldn't resist an irritated huff. "Stuff I_ don't_ need," he sharply countered again.

In return, Delia's brows narrowed and a subtle frown claimed her lips. "Ash, don't give me that attitude," the mother warned just as sternly, her son's defensive rude tone beginning to wear on her usual patience. "Why won't you just look through them?"

"'Cause it's stuff I don't want Mom!" Ash persisted twice as vexed, his tone growing more impish than before.

Then finally, a different voice interjected. However, it sounded equally as piqued. "Oh Ash! Quit griping and just listen to your mom already," Misty hissed, thoroughly annoyed by her friend's antics. It was evident to everyone in the room except Ash, that if he didn't end his childish foolery no one would be wanting to hear out whatever problem he was facing. That, and the redhead was exasperated with another verbal action of Ash's. "And can you use a better non-specific noun to describe your belongings as more than just _stuff_?" she couldn't help but remark, not to get a laugh out of his flustered state but because it truly had been aggravating to _listen_ to.

A surge of anger burst through Ash. He never enjoyed being challenged, especially when he felt cornered by everyone else with no idea on how to properly respond. And being picked on by his lack of an expansive vocabulary did him in. So, in one frustrated holler, he snarled at Misty with a lashing of harsh words. "Bite me!"

Aghast by her son's rash and uncalled for response to his friend, Delia's temper too flared. "Now that is enough young man!" she ordered firmly, close to striking faint fear in Brock and Misty. Most of the time, Delia was rather reserved, quiet, and usually cheerful in most instances. But when she was mad, they could tell, and neither kid enjoyed seeing this peeved side of the usually bubbly Delia.

"Brock, please hand me those boxes," the mother ordered, tired of her son's impish behavior. Throughout their day of sorting, she had eventually noticed Ash's less than thrilled attitude, and at last, was beginning to wear on the patient woman.

"No!" her son wailed, dread engulfing his mind as the box was put in Delia's grasp. "You'll just keep them and we already have enough junk up here that you're insisting on holding onto!"

Junk? A pang hit Delia's chest as she witness Ash's face grow madder and his words sharper with an ever irritated tone. Then, she fell silent.

Slowly, Delia opened the forbidden box and once looking inside her heart ached with another pain only a mother could feel. Clothes, toys, blankets... all things from her son's babyhood. Things that were the last bit of happiness from the past she could hold onto. The things that weren't tainted.

Eventually with shaky eyes, she pulled out the charmander she made for him when he was a baby, limp and worn in her hand. Delia's heart finally sank. All the materials she had gathered, the time she spent stuffing the plush toy, sewing the buttons on and all the seams so that it wouldn't tear or to prevent him from eating any of the small pieces- this was once important to Ash and now he just wanted to throw it all away? Then, there was his baby blanket she made for Ash too; Delia remembered how excited she was when she found the exact teddiursa print she had been searching for, and that too took time. Time in which Ash used to appreciate. The boy knew without a doubt what items were especially significant, he himself made that evident hauling his favorites around once upon a time.

So _why_?

Hurt chestnut eyes captured chocolate ones. "Your baby clothes and toys are _not_ junk," argued Delia, her motherly-self slightly hurt that her son would even categorize his belongings as such. "They're precious and important to me."

"Well they're not important to me," Ash swiftly rebutted, clearly not considering his words. How could she not see what he was doing? Innocently or not, he didn't appreciate an ounce of it and it was the final blow to unleash horrid truth. Without much restraint. "You've already embarrassed me enough in front of my friends with the baby pictures, the trike, the crib, and just the fact that you insist on keeping everything from the past! No wonder Gary calls me a baby!" the boy didn't resist announcing, fed up with it all. "You hold onto _all_ my stuff that I_ don't_ want _or_ need and insist on claiming it's 'special'! I'm not your baby anymore, Mom! Can't you see that?"

Instantly, everything fell silent.

Pikachu, who grew worried from his trainer's booming voice stood still and kept a timid Togepi behind him. Cocking his head to the side with long ears back, Pikachu cooed to his master but earned nothing in return. So he looked to the other humans surrounding him. No one moved a muscle. Awkward couldn't begin to describe the tension filling the air. This was the first big blow up that Brock and Misty, even Pikachu had witnessed between Ash and his mom. Hopefully, it was the last one too. Nonetheless, nothing filtering through anyone's mind seemed like an appropriate thing of saying out loud. Nothing else than the desire to leave the attic or simply dismiss the altercation as it never happened.

So someone decided to take action.

"I think we should go see if Mr. Mime needs any help," Brock quietly suggested, serious eyes gleaming to Misty as he gestured to the trapdoor.

Hers on the other hand shook with anxiety, first looking to a stoic Delia then to a flustered Ash. At that moment, Misty wanted to do so many things at once. React several different ways. She was very much tempted to give Ash a piece of her mind in any form she had to, somehow comfort Delia, and follow Brock's logical advise.

So she did that. Begrudgingly.

"Okay."

With a nod, Misty followed behind, shuffling Pikachu and Togepi right along with her. Though before officially exiting the attic, Misty gave one last glance to Ash. It was very much a look of disapproval. It was a passionate enough expression to make Ash think about Misty's hardened sea-green eyes. The full realization came instantly with a sheepish look in return. What had he done? Frozen in time, Ash felt as if he and Delia were back where they started. Back before he left for his Pokémon journey, when he was struggling through his last year of school. When Gary was constantly picking on him, when life seemed harsher than it needed to be, when they weren't discussing their feelings truthfully with respect... Ash instantly felt foolish and full of regret.

With a dry throat, Ash swallowed. "Mom?" the boy croaked pitifully, though he hardly earned a glance. "I swear I didn't mean to make you feel bad. But you've gotta understand where I'm coming from. Please."

It was at least, a much more appropriate tone to use when addressing his mother. Still, Delia felt disheartened by the whole ordeal. Her little boy wasn't supposed to talk to her this way. Not like this. She raised him better than that. Ash becoming snappy was one thing, but this? Exploding out of the blue with no given sign that she was causing his discomfort? Another mixture of disapproval and confusion soared through Delia. Then, came the intolerance for her son's behavior.

"I didn't think that cleaning the attic would somehow set you off like this," Delia explained openly, finally capturing her son's eyes.

Guilty, Ash's eyes lingered to the wood-paneled floor. "And you shouldn't have had to anticipate it." From there, the boy sighed, eyes trailing away to the box his mother so earnestly treasured and had every right too. "I love you Mom," he felt the need to state, "but when you baby me in front of friends... I'm afraid I'm going to lose them or that they'll laugh at me or something. _Especially_ if I want to keep some of my stuff because I know- I _know_ it's not junk."

It was a bitter confession, one in which he looked three times as shameful to admit. Now that he said it out loud, it felt so stupid to even dream up. _None_ of his belongings were junk. So why did it have to be taken this far for him to realize that?

Soft chestnut eyes shook as Delia gazed at her lowly son. Why would he believe such a strong accusation against his friends? "That's not true, Ash. Brock and Misty aren't going anywhere-"

"And I thought Tate and Peter weren't either," Ash countered, more bitterness seeping in his voice. "But they did. They sided with Gary... I just- it's so hard for me to explain," he again huffed, the frustration of it all building.

Ash's childhood friends lost to the bullying of Gary... Delia immediately caught on to this expression. She had seen it before. This situation wasn't under the exact same conditions as the Gary incident, but it bore similar worries inside Ash. And Delia wasn't going to stand by and let it happen again.

Gently, she smiled a grin of reassurance. "I think I understand. Come," the mother soon gestured to one of the more sturdy boxes. "Sit with me."

With a seating over herself a patting of her hand against the cardboard, Ash willingly journeyed over and plopped down next to his mom. Her smile weakened for a moment, eyes bearing something of melancholy. There were simply too many factors.

"Listen honey, I- I wasn't trying to embarrass you," Delia started strongly, trying to repress any shed of a insist tear. "Going through all the things we found- they brought back a lot of good memories. Memories I cherish because they were things I did with you or reminded me of you. Ash, as a parent I can't help but adore those things and hold onto most of it!" she couldn't resist chuckling a little, seeing that her habit of collecting all his art projects and precious toys was very much engulfed in the attic. "If I didn't, there would be something wrong with me. And I can see why it'd bother you, wanting to be a- young man in front of your friends."

It was still somewhat hard to admit that. Swallowing, Delia continued. "But Ash, if something is making you uncomfortable you tell me no matter what. None of this yelling and bickering business. It's not respectful to anyone or becoming."

Ash sensed the sternness in his mom's voice, and obeyed with a quick nodding of the head. He wasn't about to make any excuses. Not when he saw the look in Delia's eyes, not when Misty fixed him with a severely deplored expression, or when the harsh words replayed through his swirling mind... Just the look he captured, he _caused_ was enough to make Ash's stomach churn. She appeared, so sad as she held that plush charmander that was specifically made for him. The one she took so much time to create as Ash was busy 'baking' and nestled in the security of his mother's womb.

Delia meant no harm, and Ash didn't want to be another person so close to her to create such turmoil. Even if it was unintentional.

"I know, and I'm sorry," Ash replied, honestly ashamed. "I really am. I guess... I just didn't want to let you down. I promised you I'd help clean out the attic, but then... I got so worried about the attic last night, Mom," he finally admitted, his words speeding as he tried so hard to explain. So his explanation would make halfway sense. "What Misty and Brock would think about my baby stuff and what you'd say and I just- I wasn't thinking." Ash let out another sigh, and his eyes fell to his shoes. "I know you put up with a lot and... I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. You have a right to like and keep my baby stuff."

His voice had grown much softer, chocolate eyes shaking as he struggled to come to terms with his uncalled for behavior. But just the sincerity in his voice made Delia's quaking heart feel stable again, and for her to return her apologetic boy with a smile.

"And I accept your apology in a heartbeat," the mother breathed, warmness returning to her voice. Then, it shifted, something still motherly yet baring a hint of firmness. As if a call to keep an open mind and listening ears. "But Ash," Delia started again, eyes staring right into his, "you need to understand something from my perspective too. You, young man, whether you like it or not, are_ always_ going to be my baby. You're my child. Probably the only one I'm ever going to have and I just- I love you so much, Ash. You mean the world to me," she stated sweetly, caressing his face. "You're all I've got."

Those words forced a faint smile upon Ash's face, his mother's fingers delicately pushing back his wild untamed locks. "I know. And you're all I've got too Mom. But-" His gaze shifted to the side. "I just hate getting embarrassed... It makes me feel- smaller than everyone else."

Delia drew her hand back. "I know. I didn't like it much when I was your age either. But I'll tell ya what," she began, an upbeat tone calling for Ash's attention. "I honestly don't believe neither Misty or Brock would stop being your friends just because you've got a mom who can't help but adore you. Really, sweetie. _Your_ actions are going to make them realize whether they want to be your friends or not. Not mine. So please, just be yourself and not worry. And I think that's what they'd want too."

Ash gave another nod of understanding, processing her words as he tried to accept them. Still, it was a tad hard to believe.

"You really think so?" he asked meekly, a pinch of fear clinging on.

Delia's smile widened with confidence. "I know so."

This time, it seemed her words did the magic trick. With the relaxing of his shoulders, Ash seemed to trust his mother's definite view and found himself slowly peering at the opening of the attic. Brock and Misty were below. If what Delia said was true, if they truly were a pair of outstanding and forgiving friends... then they most definitely deserved a clarification. And Ash wasn't about to lose the wonderful pair of companions he had luckily found out of cowardliness.

Swiveling his head, Ash looked back to Delia. "So I should probably apologize to them?" he stated more so than suggested, trying to bare some maturity.

"That would be a good idea," his mom agreed. "And be honest with them, Ash. Tell them what's bothering you." With one last nod of comprehending, Delia embraced Ash in a warm hug. Reassurance seeped through her touch as she rubbed his back. It was unavoidable that they wouldn't have a few bumps along the way, and with this last year talking their problems out had become much easier to do. And Delia was beyond thankful that even with Ash away most of the time, they still could have heartfelt conversations.

That they could go to each other and forgive all altercations.

"I love you, sweetie," Delia breathed in his ear, allowing herself to slip one single little bittersweet tear. There was so much emotion stored in this attic, and knowing she'd still have her sweet little boy made letting things go easier.

Ash buried his nose into her shoulder, chocolate eyes gleaming forward. "Love you too, Ma."

They both were quiet after the tender words were said, Ash thinking one thing, Delia another. But what was going through Ash's mind was an act that could fully rectify the miscommunication.

"Hey, Mom?" he called, drawing away from her grasp.

"Hmm?" she answered, discreetly, wiping away the tear.

Ash's eyes trailed over to the box that had been troubling him during their entire cleaning process. Those home videos...

He finally knew what to do with them, and he smiled. "I think I found a box you might want to look at."

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Recorded Memories

**Author's Note: **Good Lord, this hasn't been updated in a while. Can I say I'm sorry enough? ^^; Blame college life, _After the Rain_, and_ Sunlight's Return_ enticing plotline if you must, but I** DO** plan to finish this story one way or another! There are only** two** more chapters left after this. One being fairly long and the last chapter will wrap everything up. I have been ecstatic to write for this story as much as _Sunlight's Return_\- but it took some time getting there, making sure everything flowed with cohesiveness. It's here now, and I all hope you enjoy this newest installment of _Junk of the Heart_!

**AND** I suppose you could say this is like a late Mother's Day treat... in a sense. I actually didn't get around to writing one, though, God knows I wish I could have... But I think this chapter will suffice. Enjoy the tender moments of my beloved and utmost favorite platonic relationship ever!_ And_ with a few minor hints at the end of one of my favorite romantic parings. ;)

Also, I read through this chapter twice with the help of my big sis. Hope we caught most of the mistakes! *keeps fingers crossed*.

**DISCLAIMER: **_Pokémon_ belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. My oc's belong to me.

* * *

**Junk of the Heart**

**Chapter 3**

_Recorded Memories_

Ash climbed down the ladder with anticipation.

Right below the last wooden step to the floor were Misty and Brock; Togepi resting in the redhead's arms while Pikachu sat on the aspiring breeder's shoulder. In between the two, was a very curious Mr. Mime, who appeared addled by the entire situation as he held a well-used duster in his grasp. Though, the Pokémon went back to his work, too engrossed in cleaning off every speck of dirt to give the situation his full attention. Soon, a soft thud was made by Ash's feet colliding with the floor. From there, he took a couple more steps before his friends baring a very sheepish grin. Misty and Brock watched him curiously as he found the courage to speak.

"Uh, hey guys," he started nervously, biting his lip out of anxiousness.

"Hey," responded Brock, observing his with careful eyes. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine now. I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Ash at last proclaimed, feeling his body quake out of anxiety. "For acting out in the attic. I just um... Ya see I- I didn't want you guys to- treat me differently." At the same time his voice dropped, his head did, as if purposely avoiding the psychical reactions he was about to receive.

Misty's eyebrows lowered, concern stirring in her voice. "Ash, why would you think that?"

Ash's mouth gaped a little and his eyes trailed off to the side. The words wanted to come out in a reasonable explanation for his outburst and constant avoidance of his childhood relics yet it couldn't. Pondering over his feelings, how Misty and Brock would react, what thoughtful advice Delia had lovingly given him- it was all sounding nonsensical to the frazzled boy.

Then, the raven haired boy's voice croaked. "It's stupid-"

"No, it's not," Misty quickly cut off. "Ash..." She continued to observe him, his chocolate hue turning dim and bleak, as if ashamed. Misty drew back and her bottom lip quivered, feeling a slight guilt for being so pushy on Ash up in the attic. He was, all things considering, behaving rather poorly to which Misty had a hard time forgiving with such ease. Even so, Ash's insecure state caused the redhead's body to rise with worry, anticipating to hear the full truth.

Eventually with a concerned look from Misty and a serious expression from Brock, Ash proceeded. He figured he might as well get it over with, for his self-esteem was already feeling low about the entire ordeal. And he could only blame himself. "I just thought if you guys saw my baby stuff or if I wanted to keep any of it or that if what my mom said..." Too much was being processed in Ash's mind for his words to make full sense to him. He winced softly at his communication skills, soon sighing as he tried to collect his bearings. To suppress the embarrassment. "I thought you guys would think that I was a- loser," the young trainer admitted somberly, the bill of his cap shielding his expressive eyes.

Instantly, Misty and Brock glanced to each other in unison, stunned. Then Brock's attention changed, his posture tensed and his eyebrows surprisingly narrowed. "That's not true at all," he assured assertively, yet with a twinge of compassion. "Why would you even think that, Ash-"

"'Cause I've lost friends before," the boy declared, at last gazing at his traveling companions. "My friends here in Pallet- I don't talk to them much anymore... for a lot of reasons."

A lot of reasons? While they did not physically communicate, Misty and Brock sensed the same apprehension to Ash's explanation, similar expressions crossing their faces. So Brock seized the chance to ease the tension. "Ash, just 'cause you might want to keep something from your childhood that doesn't mean we're gonna think you're well, a baby or something," he started earnestly, straightforward but nevertheless kind.

"We like you the way you are, Ash!" defended Misty passionately. "And no photo of you as a baby or a trike is going to change that. Even though you can be a _tad_ stubborn and impulsive."

Ash sensed the cheekiness in Misty's voice, yet he couldn't help but huff as if an insult. "Thanks a lot, Mist," he grumbled.

A slip of an eye roll occurred. "All I'm saying is we wouldn't think differently of you," Misty explained, motioning to Brock. "We all have keepsakes from our childhood."

"Misty's right, Ash. We wouldn't stop being your friends over something so trivial. And some of us _have_ moms who are just as eager to gush about our toys and photos as the next caring mother," the older trainer made sure to mention, which he obtained the tiny meek grin he was hoping that would stretch across Ash's face. "It's not a big deal, Ash. _Really_. I just wish we knew if Misty and I did something to make you think that way," Brock threw, open to the idea of a further discussion.

The appreciation for Brock's cooperation and understanding lighted Ash's clouded head immensely, yet he could not fully shake off the feeling now knowing he was in the wrong. Wrong to think that his traveling companions would behave as poorly as the likes of him...

"You guys didn't do anything. It's just me," Ash shrugged, his gaze averting to the side uncomfortably. "Me worrying too much..."

Silence plagued the three trainers, Ash wallowing in humiliation as Misty and Brock conjured their own thoughts. Misty, in particular, could not help but analyze Ash's words. And because of that, the image of a boy strutting his stuff so proudly and riding in a high-speed expensive convertible with "adoring fans" launched Misty into suspicious inquiring.

"Ash, does this have anything to do with Gary?" she at last declared, concerned curiosity sweeping through her vocal cords.

Begrudgingly with a bite of his lip, Ash mumbled. "...Maybe."

Just as she thought. Immediately, frustration boiled inside Misty for several reasons, her eyebrows twitching as her first thoughts became violently vocalized. "First of all, don't you_ dare_ compare either of us to the likes of him!" she hollered, wagging her finger while balancing Togepi in her free arm. "How could you even think we'd stoop as low as he would?"

Hurried steps backed Ash up against the stepladder, a very nervous slip of a grin growing from his lips as Misty charged forward. He didn't have much of a chance on how to properly respond, and was actually thankful for that as Brock stepped in between them. "Whoa, Misty! Chill for a minute!" he ordered, playing big brother as usual. "Don't jump down Ash's throat like that."

"Don't tell me you like being put in the same category as that little pompous brat, Brock!" she instead countered, glancing to Brock in fury.

The Pokémon breeder in the making sighed. "Of course I don't. But we gotta hear him out first before we jump to conclusions. Go on head, Ash."

What felt like an interrogation on Misty's part lighted back to a normal discussion, and tense muscles relaxed at Brock's calm commanding words. Ash didn't blame Misty for feeling as if he was putting her at the same low level of Gary; he out of all people he himself wouldn't take that so lightly either. But those weren't his intentions, and with a deep breath Ash took advantage to clear up the miscommunication. Nevertheless, it wouldn't come easy to him.

"It's just... I lost my friends at school and around town because of stuff Gary said and- even though it was a different situation... I guess I'm just paranoid," he huffed pathetically, eyes gleaming down. "About really being a loser."

Frowns swept across their faces, mainly out of pity than anything. Neither of the trainers were aware of how damaging Ash's relationship with Gary was, much less that the bullying heavily originated from their early years of childhood. No child ever had it truly easy during their school years, and whether Ash's statement was an exaggeration or not... Misty and Brock didn't think that was the case. Ash wasn't the kind of person to lie, and from what they observed of Gary it wouldn't surprise them if he rallied a whole group against Ash. But as to why... It didn't matter now. All that was important was that they weren't going anywhere. That the three of them would stick together without any judgement and complete honesty. And to not let any influences or worries come between them.

"Well you don't have to worry with us, Ash," Brock spoke up, keeping up his even demeanor. "We would never be persuaded by him. No matter what Gary said."

"I can hardly stomach him as it is," snorted Misty. She too was bearing a rather understanding look, but soon it was transformed into affectionate sternness. "But _you_ Ash Ketchum, you're the one who's gonna make Brock and I decide if we want to be your friends or not," she felt the need to remind, encroaching in his space once again to make her point.

Ash slipped another sheepish grin. "So I guess my mom was right?" he chuckled innocently as he rubbed the back of his head. Though, Misty didn't quite understand why he was taking her words so lightly.

Even at that, Misty made her own assumption and continued her assurance. "Well, whatever advice she told you I'm sure it was useful," she deduced, considering Ash had been up there in the attic with Delia for a good few minutes. However, if Delia had spoken to Ash, _she_ wasn't through lecturing him. "And if you dare doubt that Brock and I would stoop so low as Gary I _will_ tell your mom that you owe me a bike! And I'll add interest onto it. How does that sound?"

The fierce glow in her eyes, the clenching of her teeth and that never-ending whiney reminder of the destroyed bike he owed her- Now Ash supposed Misty and her threats would bring his mom in on it, and he certainly didn't want _her _to find out about the overpriced bike that he was destined to pay back. She'd probably have a fit and fall in it. He'd figure out a solution on his own… in good time. After all, when Misty said something she _meant it_, much like himself in a way.

Holding up his hands in defense, Ash sweat-dropped. "Fair enough," he compromised without a fight. Immediately it seemed he eased most of the tension in Misty's furrowing brows. But, a sly smile crept from the corners of Ash's mouth, unable to resist a comeback he knew for certain would get his fiery friend jittery. "But is this _your way_ of showing how much you care about me, Misty?"

Standing stiff, Misty bristled and was caught completely off guard by Ash's wise crack. "Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed, hoping the reddening of her cheeks wasn't visible as the natural heat she felt across her face. "Of course I care. Just- You just owe me a new bike!"

By the inoffensive croak of Ash's laughter and Misty's persisting growls, Brock intervened again, separating them as he logically sorted out their banter once more. "All right, all right! I think we've cleared the air for the most part," he concluded, seeing they were all back to their normal selves. Misty's nerves heightened by Ash's wholesome joking, and Ash at last felt free from his deepest worries. But Brock made sure to double-check nonetheless.

"Haven't we Ash?" he soon said, turning to his dark-haired friend.

Slowly, Ash's chuckles dissipated, giving Brock a casual nod and shrug. "Uh, yeah. Other than- I'm really sorry and I hope you guys can accept my apology."

The words came out easier than Ash expected, and he was relieved they did. At the current moment there was nothing else he wanted more than to officially put his little juvenile escapade behind him, and for he and his friends to move forward. And they all agreed without hesitation.

"We do in a heartbeat," Brock said, his reply sound and certain. "Right, Mist?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, the embarrassment of Ash's comment gradually ceasing from her flushed face.

"So you guys promise _not_ to make fun of me no matter what you find up there in the attic?" Ash questioned once more, persisting his need for reassurance. "Or whatever _Mom_ might drag out?"

Yet, he was cocking a wily smile as he said it.

"Ash that goes without saying," Brock replied again, wondering what he was getting at.

"Besides, if anyone is going to do something that might lead to us making fun of you it might be_ you, yourself_ tripping up the staircase again or seeing how high you can jump to touch the ceiling-_again _Mr. Accident Prone," jeered Misty, reminding the boy he was notorious for his natural knack for inflicting his own physical pain, thanks to his disposed ridiculous and reckless stunts.

To Misty's amazement for another time, Ash dismissed her sharp rehashes that would usually send him into a heated dispute.

"But nothing from my childhood?" he said on the contrary, his persistence not wavering. "And you have to swear!"

"Of course not," groaned the redhead, exasperated by his questioning. "We're not that mean spirited. And, I suppose we'll swear-"

"Okay, good." Ash seemed centered at his point, the wheels in his head turning as his formulated plan was at last verbally announced. "Now I guess I should tell you guys Mom was thinking we could take a break for lunch. And because you guys _promised_ not to make fun of me and that I _really_ want to trust you guys so much..."

One final shy smile graced his face, watching Misty and Brock attentively. Then, he sucked in a deep breath.

"You guys might see some pretty embarrassing footage over sandwiches."

* * *

With their plates covered in full plump sandwiches and a side of chips, Delia and the kids finally sat down for lunch.

Brock and she were the ones preparing the meal. Misty on the other hand found herself giving Mr. Mime directions on where to take the sorted boxes, and the mime was so enthralled with his work he refused to stop for lunch and instead scurried to the backyard to finish cleaning. But Misty left him be, and instead lent a hand in the kitchen. As for Ash... he volunteered to fetch the mail for Delia, and gave a quick examination, checking over which plants were in need of water. The temperature was nearly soaring to the mid-seventies, making it the perfect late spring weather. He wanted to show his gratitude and appreciation for his mother, working willingly and providing what aid he could. After their heart to heart chat, Ash had no intentions of ruining their now perfect day, and while he was extremely anxious to watch the videos... it was no longer an anxious feeling that made his stomach quake.

It was more on the lines of excitement.

Once everyone was settled in, plates in every lap as they crowded around the T.V. Delia pressed play and allowed the fuzzy tape to commence its rolling. It was one of the videos stacked on top of the filled box, and the title alone of "Family Picnic" sparked Ash's attention relating it back to the photo Delia was gushing over earlier. The mother was just as giddy and nervous to watch the tapes like her son, though for different reasons entirely. Still she kept her inner woes to herself, remaining content over the fact that Ash had changed his tune and that he was behaving like his normal lovable, goofy self. Seeing him lounge on the sofa in such relaxation, chatting with Misty and Brock casually as she inserted the tape into the drive... It made Delia happy to declare in simple terms, watching her boy smile so vibrantly again.

Without a single worry to contemplate over.

As the video began playing, an unexpected scene unfolded, capturing everyone's attention. A sea of what appeared to be Parkers strewed themselves out along a lengthy wooden picnic-table, draped with a plaid plastic tablecloth and bountiful amounts of food, plates, drinks, and silverware lay across the entire surface. People of all different ages attended the gathering, all appearing to enjoy the company and food they were thankful to have. Delia filled in that from what she could recall, it was an annual party, bringing together the whole family to catch up and simply savor each other's company. Leah quit throwing those parties a few years ago, her fragile health weighing on her, which most understood. And while they did not get together as much as they used to, Delia was glad she had the memories recorded on tape.

Misty was the first to start up a conversation, while still watching the video attentively. "So are these all your relatives Mrs. Ketchum?" asked the redhead, gleaming over her shoulder.

Delia stayed rested on the right armrest of the sofa, beside Ash. "Yes, from both sides," she explained, holding a chilled glass of iced tea steadily in her hand. "My dad's relatives are mostly on the left side, and my mom's are on the right. And there's Ash and I, right there!" she pointed with more delight in her voice as she held the remote with the other.

At first, Misty and Brock grinned softly at this, seeing a very similar scene just like what the photo beautifully conquered. Though, as the camera began to swivel again something or someone in the family stole the show with their full set of auburn hair.

"Is that Mr. Parker? He had a lot of hair!" commented Brock suddenly, sounding astonished.

Delia giggled, she too looking at the eleven year younger version of her dad. "Oh yes, my dad _did_ have hair!" she replied lightheartedly. "And let me say he did not take balding lightly."

"He still doesn't," Ash joked, which earned him a playful ruffling of his tresses from his mom.

"And that must be Mrs. Parker," Misty interjected this time. "She still looks pretty much the same." The woman seated beside Ernest was indeed her, for she hardly looked any different. Her hair color was still brilliant as ever for her age, and her face glowed with such warmth and merriment as they watched the pair be involved in a harmless discussion.

"I think the women in the family must age gracefully," noted Brock, unintentionally blarneying Delia and her mother for the day.

Nevertheless, Delia blushed at this. "Oh, you both flatter us too much," she replied, earning a set of sheepish grins from Ash's friends.

Then, Ash at last made his own observation and he did so quite loudly with elation. "Hey, that's Aunt Ophelia and Dani!"

Both Misty and Brock were taken aback, trying to decipher who Ash was exactly pointing out.

"You're aunt?" echoed Brock, looking to Ash then back to the screen.

"My mom's older sister," the boy elucidated. "And that's my cousin Dani. See?"

They leaned forward from there, following Ash's finger covered in salt from the potato chips. Sooner than later, the pair was able to locate the two relatives Ash was referring to. Seated between Ernest and an older woman was Delia's older sister, Ophelia, who was busy balancing a very lively two and a half year old in her arms. Misty's smile bloomed wildly, adoring the little lavender haired girl and her short pigtails.

"Oh, she was so cute!" squealed, Misty. Then, she glanced to Ash. "How much older is she than you?"

"By two years."

"So what does she do? I mean is she a Pokémon trainer also?" she went on inquiring innocently.

"Yep. Besides well, a lot of things," Ash chuckled mentally considering all the factors into his fulfilling aspirations, "Dani was one of the reasons I wanted to be a Pokémon trainer. Whenever she came by to visit she always showed me her Pokémon and told me stories... we had a lot of fun," he summed up, the real joy his family brought him rushing through his veins.

"That's really neat, Ash," replied Misty. "Where is she now?"

"Travelling in another region," answered Delia this time. She placed a finger on her chin, contemplating for a moment. "Hoenn, I think."

That was quite a distance, making Misty assume that Ash's cousin must have been an exceptional trainer to continuously venture from region to region. Apparently, training Pokémon was in the family.

"Well, one day we'll have to meet her," Misty concluded, who earned confirmation from Brock with a slight nod.

Ash instantly glowed at this. "That would be awesome! I'm sure you guys would get along."

But before the conversation could continue to bloom on the possible meet and greet of Ash's cousin to his friends, Brock distracted their attention with another important appearance in the video.

"Hey, look Ash," called the aspiring breeder with a point of a finger. "I think we got a close up of you."

"Really?" Without hesitation, Misty and Ash's heads instantly swiveled, eyes falling upon the dear sweet depiction of Ash's infant self just like the photo. He was to no one's surprise dressed in the same onesie as the photo, and cradled in Delia's loving arms. They looked as picture perfect as they did in the photo, though, Ash's wasn't settled long in Delia's arms as he was soon passed down to the older woman beside her.

Ash lowered his eyebrows at this. "Mom?" he started in sheer confusion, looking to her. "Who's that that you're passing me to?"

As Delia's smile grew weak, affection tried to remain. "That's your great-grandmother," she replied, warmth of positive memories bursting in her heart. "Grandma's mom, Grandma Hazel."

A spark of remembrance shimmered in Ash's chocolate eyes. "Oh, yeah!" Ash exclaimed, as if he finally caught on. "You mentioned her a of couple of times. But- isn't she dead?"

At the mere blunt mention of death, Delia's smile slipped. She knew Ash meant nothing hurtful about her grandmother's passing, but his word choice wasn't exactly what the mother would consider delicate and thoughtfulness. Nonetheless, Delia answered evenly. "Yes Ash, your grandmother passed away shortly after this video."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Finally recognizing his forthright question was less than mannerly, the boy sensed the sadness in his mom's voice. From what he could recall, Ash had heard mention of Grandma Hazel's name on quite a few occasions. Tales of how respectable and kind of a woman she was not only to her family, but to the town of Pallet. She opened the very same inn Leah now inherited, being the only child. And Ash saw how much care and pride both Delia and Leah put in to that little but charming establishment.

"It's okay, honey. I'm just glad you met her when you did," Delia carried on, a bittersweet tone riding in her voice. "You would have liked her very much. She was such a kind and generous woman. She helped the town a lot, especially with opening the inn. That place was her pride and joy next to Grandma."

Nodding back, Delia's words soaked into Ash. The expression on his mother's face alone left Ash's speculations answered. "She sounds nice," he said, noting how significant of a figure she was in his mom's life and how impactful her legacy was to everyone. Not to mention, how she wished for Ash to know as much as she could share...

And recognizing such silent understanding, Delia smiled back. "Yes," she agreed thoughtfully. "She was very nice."

The heartfelt exchange between mother and son led back to watching the T.V., no longer continuing further discussion. There was no need to. The little conversation created a deeper bond for them, and both Delia and Ash acknowledged such. Or at least, it helped further lessen the tension from the day's debate of keepsakes. That much was certain. And while they were so swept up in the moment, neither anticipated the drawback that was about to occur. That was about to vocalize from the television itself.

_The once young Delia bounced the bubbly baby back in her arms and out of his great-grandma's grasp. She smiled briefly into the camera, her radiant and enchanting grin stealing the show next to the bundle of cuteness in her grasp. "Who was that, Ash? That's your great-grandma. And who's that, baby?" she continued to play on sweetly, her attention now divided between Ash and the camera. "It's Daddy. See Daddy? Aww..." A giggle was then produced from Ash, his little fingers and grin beaming up at the figure clasping the camera. This caused Delia's smile to grow all the more, slipping out of her soft motherly tone as she gleamed upward to the device herself._

_Then, another cast glistened in Delia's eyes._ "_Jay hon, sit down with us," she coaxed, eager for the man to sit extra close to her._

_"Just give me sec, Del," the man now known as Jay answered. Though his face could not be shown, for he was still clenching the recording device. "I wanna film your dad yelling at Leo for bringing his "special brownies"."_

_An innocent laugh erupted. "Don't do that! We don't want that on the video! C'mon, sit with me," she continued to beg, and soon her infectious smile led him to substituting to her wishes._

_"I will, I will,"_ _he chuckled airily. "And I'll take a turn holding our little angel." _

With what appeared to be fingers of the man holding the camera, the device shut off and the screen fuzzed out. Fuzzing out evidently so he could hold a month odd old Ash.

Then there was a pause.

"Hey," Ash started, surprise rising in his voice, "I didn't know Dad was in this video. And I wonder what made Uncle Leo's brownies so special?"

All gazes traveled to Delia for answers but she had fallen dead silent, her chestnut eyes wide and her lips tightly shut. Ash watched his mother peculiarly, wondering why she appeared so motionless. He would have thought that after everything before his journey, all the healing and discussing they at last delved into about his alienated father that there would be some form of closure. Yet, here was Delia, quiet and meekly avoiding their curious eyes. But why? Was it something Ash said? Or did the sorting through forgotten belongings have anything to do with it?

No longer able to stand the silence, Brock attempted to bring life back to the room again. "So uh- who's filming everything? What I meant was uh, is that?-"

Delia sighed. "That would be my husband," she finally spoke, slight dejection and annoyance in her voice. She felt stupid for a moment, knowing bringing out videos of the past would most likely feature _him_. The man she admittedly loved and was horribly heartbroken over the fact that he was not seated beside her right now...

"Oh..." The soft croaks of his voice, nearly made Brock choke on his words. Mentally he was beating himself up for letting his mouth get the best of him. He had no intentions of causing such uncomfortable agitation. So being a considerate person, he tried easing it. "Well he has a very steady hand with the camera."

"And the quality looks- great," added Misty, also trying to lessen the already awkward topic Brock plunge them into. And because of that, she nudged her friend with a sharp elbow, moving lips quietly hushing him from carrying on the subject any further. Already a head of her, Brock returned Misty's equally firm look with his own realizing his slip of the tongue. It almost seemed taboo to speak of Mr. Ketchum in the house, hardly knowing a single thing about the man or where he was for that matter.

"It's all right, kids," Delia assured calmly, attempting to not let her feeling show through. "My husband is a- um well- a traveling trainer. He has been for quite some time now," she finished hastily.

On the contrary, for some reason Ash didn't appear to mind his dad being brought up as much as Delia did, leaving Brock and Misty to believe Ash wasn't aware of the entire picture, or simply wished to stay in childish ignorance. "Yeah, Dad's an amazing Pokémon trainer!" piped up the boy, oblivious to his mother's stumbling over words. "Isn't he, Mom?"

His big brown eyes looked up to her for a positive answer, yet Delia struggled to bring herself to speak with such enthusiasm as her son did. "Yes, your father certainly has a gift," she replied, dismissing the topic by rising from her seat. "Why don't we put in another video?"

Her anxious behavior continued as she walked over to the T.V., ejecting the tape and searching through the box for a new one.

Ash blinked back in befuddlement. "Uh, okay."

After that, the room was fairly quiet, nothing more than the sounds erupting from the flashing box bouncing off the walls. Wearily, Ash's gaze would wander back to his mom, peaking at her from the corner of his eye, feeling disquieted as he watched the hue in her eyes turn cloudy. There was nothing he could do though, but sit through the videos, and tried not to make a scene. But the start of guilt riding in his gut, as if he had unintentionally caused harm...

Through everyone's internal debate of Delia's sudden silence, there was no way that smiles could not be prevented as they scrutinized a steadily growing Ash. Shockingly enough, Delia in particular, was eased of her restless state at the sight of her son's younger selves from age one to six. From the recorded moments of his first steps, to him utterly "mama," and the delighted cheers that followed from his mother kissing him as he was held in her grasp, and his father recording the astounding breakthrough - it all warmed Delia's heart to such an intense level, the need to cry was becoming unbearable to hold back. But she kept her emotions contained, continuing to gawk at all the times she and her husband luckily recorded with such fervor. To Ash simply eating a bowl of cereal to diving into his first birthday cake, none of it could describe how happy she was to relive those treasuring moments. To watch her younger self host birthday parties with him, and witness the minor altercations of toys and taking turns that occurred between Ash and Gary even during their toddler days. As silly and trivial those spats were then, giggles could not be terminated by Misty and Brock, in which Ash himself couldn't laugh about in the end. That clip alone founded the rivalry at an earlier date, and there were witnesses to vouch for that. For Delia, it made her recall what it was like when she had her spouse there to also intervene, though evidently he didn't like being in front of the camera too often for he was forever holding the device.

And on every video, _he_ was always there. Realizing with another pang, Delia saw that these videos ended when Ash was barely into his sixth year, marking the occurrence of when her husband left their family. When everything went downhill... Nevertheless, every recorded memory all brought back unforgettable and precious times that could never be replaced. That included all three of them there.

One holding the camera and the other two beaming so merrily into the lenses.

* * *

He wondered if he'd done something truly wrong, that the videos were a bad idea with, nevertheless, a good intention.

The stored tapes were, at first, wonderful to watch. Everyone in the family captured on film, recalling pleasant days of laughter and celebratory schemes. All the food, the company, reliving the past... Ash had unintentionally, discounted how his mother would feel at seeing his father's young self or hearing his sublime voice for that matter. The very voice that captivated her from the very beginning...

Once wrapping up the many heartwarming but heart-wrenching tapes, Delia and the kids finished their work with the attic, and finalized the organization of keeps and giveaways. From there, evening drew to a close, and dinner was on the minds of all as Delia prepped a meal with Brock's aid. All seemed rather talkative except for the hardworking mother, who, smiled politely but remained quiet during most of their last meal for the day. The three trainers sensed Delia's rather silent state, but made no commotion about it, leaving her and her thoughts alone. Every one of them had their own deductions as to why Delia kept to herself, and without communicating; they all were presuming the exact same thing.

Ash of course, felt the most responsible.

And he couldn't put that guilt out of his mind. Not during dinner, not loading the dishes into the dishwasher, not even when he scrubbed up for the night and brushed his teeth. Attempting to go to bed did it in for him, staring wide eyed and awake at the ceiling. He was sleeping on the floor for it was his turn to sleep on a less than ideal spot; Brock and Misty getting the bunk-beds for the night. And when he explained to his friends that he was in need of a drink, Ash had intentions of getting a cold glass of water but also wished to talk to his mom. So before he quenched his throat, Ash proceeded to Delia's bedroom figuring it was best to talk to her while she was still up. After following through with the polite procedure of calling for his mom and knocking on her door, Ash not only found no light on in her bedroom but her presence was nowhere to be found. Once he creaked the bedroom door open, the boy discovered the bed hadn't been touched, no decorative pillows piled on the floor or sheets pulled back. Logically, the only explanation was for Delia to be downstairs.

Shy footsteps waddled down the stairs, a gulp sliding down his throat. Then, Ash stopped midway, finding his mom sitting on the sofa watching the evening news. Apparently she was passing time in front of the flashing television, though as to why Ash did not know. Delia wasn't the kind of person to stay up extra late, and she certainly didn't waste most of her evening hours watching mindless entertainment.

"Hey, Mom?" he soon called meekly, fingers fiddling with the sides of his pajama bottoms anxiously.

Long auburn locks bounced as Delia swung her gaze over her shoulder, peering at him as she still sat on the couch. "Ash, what are you still doing up?" she asked in surprise as he came around to the sofa. "It's close to ten." She was curled up tightly in her own comfortable position, and invited Ash to take a seat beside her.

"I know," her son acknowledged, plopping down beside her. He hardly made himself comfortable as he sat down, hunched as culpable eyes lingered at his mother. "But I uh, couldn't get something off my mind."

"What is it? Is something bothering you?" she inquired with concern, a gentle hand rubbing his back.

The loving hand placed upon him caused Ash's gaze to wander upward. Delia's tired eyes were the first indicator Ash noted, making the boy all the more worried why his mother was up instead of snoozing away on her pillow.

"Kinda," he replied quietly, biting his lip. How was he going to tell her? Nothing coherent seemed to seep from his mouth, his mind filled with the worst possible conclusion. Admittedly, Ash knew he was over-thinking it, that he could come to his mother about anything and everything. But about _him..._ it had become much easier to bring him up, yet still difficult in some respects. Eventually, the boy drummed up the courage to answer. "Actually- I was worried I might've... hit a sore spot with you."

Delia's forehead wrinkled. "Sore spot?" she echoed, and then she realized quite suddenly what her son was referring to. Steadily, Delia swallowed. "Ash- you don't mean?-"

"Dad?" he finished, wide eyes anticipating for a response.

With a held breath, Delia paused and processed the answer in which she knew was to come. Too many emotions and thoughts swirled uncontrollably in her head. Both undying love and disappointment jerking her feelings for her husband violently. Delia didn't want to deny her true feelings, but she didn't want to dismiss the repercussions they caused.

Sighing, the mother composed herself. "Ash, we've talked about this. I love your father-"

"I know," he cut her off, not seeing the need for her to explain herself. "But- you seemed kinda sad today. Watching the videos. And I feel really bad about it. It's my fault for bringing them up."

Ash believed that pressing play on those videos, would not only help his uncertainties and allow him to fully accept his friends trust, but would brighten his mother's day with fond memories of his early childhood. After all, Delia had been utterly giddy uncovering all of Ash's little treasures, something only a mother could react to with wants of reminiscing and constant praising and declares of joy to her child. But what came with that...

Quickly, Delia shook her head. "No, nothing is your fault," she insisted evenly, rubbing his back again tenderly. "You should be able to watch those videos, Ash. They're just as much mine as they are yours. I mean, you were our little star after all! The only real reason we filmed so many. Those videos were about _you_, sweetie. For us to watch and see- how much you've grown up."

"Really, Mom? 'Cause if I made you upset in any way-"

"You didn't," she hurriedly interrupted, the start of swelling bittersweet tears pooling in her eyes. "There's no need for you to apologize. I _loved_ the videos. It was very sweet of you. I mean that with all my heart. I just- miss your dad a great deal," she confessed softly, shaky eyes diverting to her slipper covered feet. "I miss his company when you're away..."

The house felt empty without either of them there,_ especially_ the person who was _supposed_ to _stay_ beside her forever. Sounds of footsteps shuffling to the fridge for a bite, the sound of the television roaring with Pokémon league matches, the stereo blasting with classic rock music even after she told him to turn it_ down_ for the fifth time, the kind gesture of someone handing her tools in the garden, the extra help she earned in the kitchen when he eagerly wanted to help her make pie crust, and the feeling of a toned warm body beside her, his arms wrapped tightly around her in a secure loving hold- whispering words of love in her ear as she drifted to sleep for another simple but perfect day... Then to wake up, and see those stunning captivating blue eyes...

Those thoughts, that were once a reality floated back into the darkness.

Delia didn't feel it was appropriate to disclose nor concern Ash in regards to her inner turmoil. While his caring nature was evident and appreciated, Delia did not wish to burden her son's young and free mind with worries of her own personal troubles. Briefly, she described her hardships, and Delia felt it best to leave it at that. To merely mention the missing, the longing she had for his father's presence in her life again... There was no denying the videos did bring somewhat discomfort to Delia's state, she could not turn her gaze away from the television during the entire showing. To hear his intoxicating voice in such a haunting ring, one of his most stunning attributes Delia fell hard for... it brought an indescribable rush to her. Reminding her of that ominous letter stashed away in her bedroom. The only one he had ever sent her during his travels, making Delia hope and pray endlessly that every word her husband uttered was true. And that one day he would come back and securely fall into her welcoming embrace.

Until his return, she'd have to stay strong on her own. As she had done so beautifully.

Fluttering wet eyelashes batted back at Ash, composure regained as Delia suppressed another surge of oncoming tears. "But I'm okay," she began calmly with such effortless strength. "I've got your grandparents, Prof. Oak, some close friends, and of course _you_ when you come by and visit once a while. _And_ when you decide to call!"

A sudden giggle emerged from Ash's throat as Delia playfully pressed her finger against his nose, his soft laughter resonating at the harmless gesture. Another hint was given that his mom wished for him to call more often than out of the blue, and at the moment, Ash couldn't blame her. Mentally, he decided to put that on his to-do list. Right up there next to training. And as the boy prioritized his most vital responsibilities, Delia pondered over something else. Her gaze was seized solely by Ash's slowly thriving features, his once very impish looks growing out of their infantile state to the look of a wild haired boy with big chocolate eyes and an award-winning smile.

He had come so far despite so many challenges, and Delia couldn't have been more content with her son's extraordinary successes.

Deeply Delia breathed through her nostrils, a soft hand gently brushing Ash's cheek with a motherly touch. "Oh Ash, you really are growing up into a great young man. I'm so immensely proud of you and no matter how you do in the Pokémon league, I'm here for you. And I'll be cheering you on every step of the way. Like always," she sealed her promised with a sincere smile.

Ash's grin widened like a burst of sunshine. "I don't doubt that," he remarked, Delia's hand drawing away.

"I just can't believe how fast time has flown by," the mother continued to marvel, completely dumbfounded and amazed by their fast-paced years together. "Just yesterday you were in my arms, then taking your first step, going to kindergarten, _then_ I was packing everything you needed for your journey... and here you are. Getting ready for the league. Maturing faster before my eyes," she added, now running her hand through his untamed midnight tresses. Delia couldn't help herself. He was her baby, and she was going to savor this moment all she could. To truly mark how far they had come together and where they were now. How, even though their three person household was broken, she and Ash could still carry on.

For the most part throughout their journey of mother and son, it was just she and Ash. Sticking together, always there for each other even during the toughest times and the longest disputes. Always forgiving and relying on each other for encouragement and support. They always made up and also found something to laugh about along the way. Going to the movies, trying out a new restaurant, lounging on the porch of Delia's parents' house on summer evenings, falling asleep on the couch even though both insisted they could stay awake through a marathon of television, Ash looming over Delia's shoulder innocently as she read while he was secretly begging for her to make him a snack, or even the most simple act of picking flowers in the garden barefoot as they felt the cool earth between their toes, then dancing in puddles as a rainstorm graced the skies...

They did all those things as they both grew each year, and every year their tight bond only strengthened into what it was that day.

Unbreakable love.

With memories of the past, of all the times they had together speeding so elegantly by in her mind, Delia lunged forward and wrapped her son in a gentle embrace. Holding him so tenderly. Just like she had always done.

Stunned and confused by his mother's abrupt hug, Ash raised an eyebrow as he peered at the back of her head. "Mom?" he said, his voice muffled by her shoulder. "A-are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine honey," Delia answered reassuringly, not ready to let go. "Just getting a little teary-eyed that's all. But I'm okay. I'm just so happy we got to spend some time together before you left again."

Ash may not have seen her tears, but he did feel them glide onto his bare neck down onto his pajama shirt.

But he didn't mind.

"Me too, Mom," Ash breathed, patting her back. "Me too."

* * *

Brock was already snoring on the top bunk, pacified by the faint spring breeze shooting through Ash's cracked bedroom window.

Misty on the other hand, was up reading with Ash's lamp on for light which sat on his desk. Both Pikachu and Togepi were snuggled up on her bottom bunk, beginning their start to slumber-land. She was reading a water-type training guide Brock had offered to buy her while they stopped at a tourist shop in Viridian, making their way back home to Pallet. Of course, Misty could not refuse such an offer and had been engrossed in it every chance she got to read a couple of pages. As she flipped to another new section, the bedroom door propped open and out popped Ash with his full glass of chilled water. He smiled faintly at her as he closed the door and walked in, watching her as she peered up at him.

"Reading your book again?" he inquired, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, it's really good. But I'm getting a little sleepy," she admitted, which was cut short by a sudden yawn.

Ash nodded and stretched his arms, his t-shirt just showing an inch of his visible stomach. "Me too," he admitted, now itching his upper chest. Then, his eyes flashed over to the only light in the room. "Want me to turn that lamp off or are ya gonna keep reading?"

"Nah, you can turn it off. But thanks for asking."

Within a few steps, Ash turned the lamp off, sat his glass down, and crawled beneath his covers on the floor. Propping himself up with an elbow against his downy pillow, he rolled over and looked to Misty. She was busy placing her bookmark back into her book, and sat it on the floor beside her bedside. From there, Ash softly coaxed Pikachu to join him with a friendly tone and a pat against his blanket, which the mouse's long ears instantly pricked up at. Then from there, the electric rodent sleepily jumped off of Misty's bed and cuddled next to Ash's side quickly snoring once more. Misty smiled at this and stroked her sleeping Togepi lightly, sea-green eyes glancing sweetly to her Pokémon, then flashed up at Ash.

"So your need to get drink of water took longer than I thought it would," the redhead commented casually. "Talking to your mom?"

Ash blinked. "Uh, yeah. I was worried I upset her. You know, with the videos."

"I see. Was she okay? She seemed kinda down during dinner."

"Don't worry, she's fine," Ash waved. "We talked it out. Mom just- misses my dad and the videos reminded her of that. That's all."

It was one of the rare occasions when Misty heard her friend refer to his missing father. The situation surrounding Mr. Ketchum's absence was strange to the girl, endless thoughts spinning in her head as to what caused Delia to react so depressingly to have his recorded presence in her living room.

"I can't blame her," Misty responded, eyebrows lowered in sympathy. Then, a question surged. One she had wanted to ask all afternoon but had kept to herself for she feared of the reactions that would spur from the Ketchum family's mouths and facial expression. But if it was just she and Ash who seemed much more open to the topic than Delia...

Swallowing with courage, Misty dared to ask the question that repeatedly pounded in her head. "What was he like?" she suddenly asked, earning Ash's puzzled attention. "If you don't mind me asking that is."

The boy did not seem to over analyze Misty's meek voice, simply trying to understand her question. Which he did with subtle surprise. "Dad?" he said, then with a confirmed nod, Ash twisted his mouth, eyes darting to the ceiling as he thought. "From what I can remember, he's lean but fit and tall," he at last replied, looking back at her. "I hope I can be as tall as him."

"Well, I'm sure when you were young he did look especially tall to you," Misty remarked playfully, trying to lighten the air.

However, there did not seem to be a need for such consideration. Ash was rather calm conversing over his traveling father, as if he was actually deep in thought about the man. "Yeah, I guess," he soon shrugged. "And- he's very... smart. Dad knows a lot of stuff. I always learned something new from him. About Pokémon or just anything."

"So he read a lot?" she assumed, a brow rose.

"Hmhm. He has a whole collection of books, but I think Mom moved them all into his closet." Recalling that vast assemblage of written Pokémon knowledge reminded Ash he wanted to check those out for himself. And would somehow have to sneak by his mom, without her knowing he had gone into her room and propping open that forsaken closet, which was probably riddled with dust-bunnies...

"But uh, I always remembered my dad being nice. For the most part," Ash went on stating, his stored away thoughts being dusted off themselves, faint memories of a long time ago reoccurring in a dreamy haze. "He worked a lot, long hours, and he always brought flowers home to Mom... I think she misses that."

Misty's eyes quaked a little. "I'm sure you do too. In your own way."

"I do..." Slowly in thought, Ash's gaze trailed away from Misty and she studied him carefully as an unforeseen glisten in his eyes sparkled. "See this Pikachu?" he suddenly said, pointing not to his living breathing companion dreaming beside him, but to a plush toy Pikachu on his shelf. Cautiously without disturbing his furry friend, Ash got up from his bed and ventured over to fetch the toy. "Dad bought it for me once when we went on vacation when I was little. Just me and him," he explained openly, approaching Misty to hand her the plush animal. "I can't really remember all that happened, but this I couldn't forget. I don't think I could ever part with it."

The redhead took the token in her grasp with care, examined the fine condition it was still in after all these years. Then, Misty's heart swelled with condolences of loss she could somewhat relate to. "It's like having a piece of him, isn't it?" she noted with another sympathetic smile, her fingers just delicately caressing the ever so soft texture of the plush yellow mouse.

Ash nodded steadily, his eyes cast down in a depressing glow. "Yeah. Yeah it is. I just wish he didn't have to go and travel..."

Travel. That word alone evoked Ash's memory of what lay within his backpack. The letter... The only letter his father sent him was personal, and for whatever reason Ash felt the need to keep it to himself. To have that little bit of comfort for his own healing as he carried it across mountains, rivers, and to all sorts of cities. Wandering around collecting badges just like his dad on what Ash assumed enticing and action packed adventures he himself had. Though, Ash doubted the likes of Team Rocket were busy chasing his father around to the ends of the earth for sanctuary. But still, Ash wondered nearly every day what his father meant in that letter. What Ash couldn't understand and why he had left, and that he had full intentions of coming back home one day. And when that day would come...

A pang of guilt hit Misty's heart, wondering in fright if she had crossed Ash's line of personal boundaries for he had fallen silent. She had no intentions of hurting his feelings or putting him in a melancholy state. She had no real idea why, but her pure curiosity sparked questions she felt unnerved about, and pondered if talking about Mr. Ketchum might help Ash, who seemed too upbeat during the videos, as if he wanted to discuss him…

"I'm sorry to have upset you, Ash," she apologized without hesitation. A concerned expression growing rapidly on her face. "I didn't mean to make you feel sad-"

"It's okay, Misty." Ash's quick reassurance and small smile made Misty stop midway through her sentence. Her mouth was slightly agape, befuddled as his grin turned into something sheepish with a shrug. "It's actually kinda nice talking about him with someone else other than Mom. She's been open to talking about him more and more, but I know it's not always easy for her."

Comprehending his explanation, the redhead nodded in return. Openly discussing her husband was plainly hard for Delia, and Misty could see why after how kindly Ash described his dad. She could only imagine how much more Delia knew about him. How wonderful he was.

A hint of understanding sadness glimmered in Misty's eyes. "She really loved him, didn't she?" she stated more so than asked.

"With all her heart," confirmed Ash.

After that, a moment of silence came upon the two trainers, the snores of Brock the predominate sound in the darkening room. Then, Misty spurred a positive sparkle of white teeth. "But you know Ash," she started to remind sweetly, "she has you. And I think that's a gift in itself."

"_Really_?" he began in forced incredulously. "Me a gift? In _your_ eyes-"

"In your _mother's_ eyes, yes," she corrected swiftly, yet her smile remained. "You're her only child and you guys have such a great bond..." The awkwardness of the conversation was now rattling Misty's bones; a few personal afflictions circulating with harsh chimes of her own past. Hastily, she shook them off and continued. "So on another note, the videos weren't as bad as you thought?" At least, that's what she assumed after seeing how unperturbed Ash was throughout each clip.

"Actually, I was thinking how you and Brock _reacted_ wasn't as bad as I thought," he contradicted with a weak chuckle. He too felt better about changing the subject. "But I still feel kinda stupid about worrying so much."

"Don't," insisted Misty briskly, compassion rising in her voice. "There's no reason to. I- I wouldn't laugh at you Ash."

If it was not for the rising of the moon outside, Misty swore Ash would have seen the faint skim of pink flush across her cheeks and that was something she did not want him to see. Not fully understanding her abrupt feelings, Misty allowed them to pass and tucked a strand of short red hair behind ear. However, her voice and movements alone were evident for Ash to see something uneasy and new was floating in the air.

He jumped at the chance to speak again.

"So uh, did you have fun cleaning out the attic?" asked the boy, trying to strike up a new safe topic.

Misty's smile grew, the heat in her face fading by another breeze through the window. "Actually, I did. It was neat to see all the stuff your mom had. And might I add she has very good taste in antiques."

"Mom always seems to find bargain deals."

They laughed airily at this, fully seeing how much Delia did enjoy hunting and gathering for various antiques. And who could blame her? They were definitely good finds, some still having the price tag on them, while others she was excited to uncover and soon display in the house. While orderly and on top Delia was on cleaning out the attic, she was still fun and carefree giving the kids plenty of breaks and eagerly starting lighthearted conversations with them. She made all three of them feel warm and comfortable for she had this natural friendly energy about her. Her welcoming beautiful smile and hospitable disposition was so pleasant. She was quite easy to talk to, to ask questions, to feel utterly secure with...

Eventually, Misty gave Ash a very serious but sincere expression. "You're lucky to have her as your mom, Ash."

"I get told that a lot," he replied, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well you should. Take it from someone who doesn't have a mom..."

Immediately, Ash's chortling stopped gazing at Misty with surprised eyes. Soon, they morphed into something empathetic, not fully recognizing Misty was without the person he continuously looked to for support and love. He quickly figured she had lost her mom somehow or that she wasn't around similar to his father. Either way, Ash knew what it was like to feel such pain, and could see why Misty admired his mom so much.

"Misty- I'm sorry," he said gently, quivering chocolate eyes hoping to capture her straying gaze.

Sighing, she looked back up at him. "It's all right. My mom passed away when I was really little so it's- nice to have your mom around. She just... your mom is _so_ good to you, Ash," she couldn't resist emphasizing again, an indescribable want she yearned for desperately. "She takes care of you, buys you things, loves you..."

"That's what a mom's supposed to do," acknowledged Ash bluntly.

"I know. And what I'm saying is- you're lucky to have her."

Laying there quietly, staring at each other with equal understanding and respect- It felt nice in a sense. For both of them to tell their deepest pains and wants, and with no judgement but listening with considerate ears. Without even knowing it, Ash and Misty could relate on a level of hurt, and while the conversation was minimal it helped to confess and get a few things off their chests. For the benefit of their friendship, the two knew they could trust one another with personal information and remind themselves of what they did have. What they were grateful for.

And Ash did just that.

"Thanks, Mist. And I'll try to remember that more often. After all... Mom's the only parent I've got," he admitted willingly, his appreciation for Delia evolving to a new level of grasping recognition and maturity.

They gave one last nod to each other before becoming more comfy in their beds, Misty slipping further into her sheets as she pulled the blankets closer to her face. But as for Ash, he wasn't fully ready to snuggle in the warmth of his comforter. Besides his initial assumption, he had no clue Misty's mom no longer dwelled on earth, and could not imagine what that would be like for him. To not have Delia around to bring constant comfort and care to his needy state and age... It was a deprivation that could not be comprehended unless one had gone through the exact same sorrowful experience. And so, he didn't want her to feel this way. At least, in any way he could help.

An itching smile intensified as he concocted a solution for his grieving friend. "But you know Misty, you can start calling her mom too if you'd like," he announced, totally content with the idea of one of his friends referring to his mother by the name he so affectionately called her.

To his gleefulness, Ash was able to get a big smile out of Misty, teeth showing as she giggled in surprise. "I don't know how she'd take that!" she replied, the flushing in her cheeks returning.

Ash rolled over, tucked the blanket close to his chin, and smiled as he propped one eye open. "I'm sure she'd like it," he affirmed with certainty.

TO BE CONTINUED...

* * *

**A/N:** Liked the subtle connections back to _Everything Changes_? The mention of _the_ letters? They had to be made for consistency reasons. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter and thank you all for reading. I really appreciate it. :) Now we're on to the actual sale! Wee! What will Team Rocket be up to next? Wait and find out!

Also, on a random side note, I think Dani and Misty would be bffs for life. Don't ask. I just do. :D


	4. Bountiful Trouble Abound

**Author's Note: **Thank you guys for being so patient with the next installment of_ Junk of the Heart_. Between school coming to an end and _Sunlight's Return_ calling to me, it was hard to manage time and continually update both stories. I've been working on this chapter a little at a time and I'm glad it's paid off. :) I also read over it twice, as well as had my sister read it once. So **HOPEFULLY** we are mostly free of errors.

Just to give you guys a heads up, there's one more chapter left after this... or maybe two. We shall see! If that's the case, I can promise the sixth chapter will be short. Any who, please stay tuned for the finale which will HOPEFULLY be posted sometime this month; if not, in August.

And to all who have reviewed one or all the chapters so far... Spruceton Spook, jg13145, Kaliann, Butterbeer8, Guest: Heather, and Guest: Marie- you guys are utterly amazing! Thank you all so much for checking out this fic, and of course for your continuing support. Again, I can't get over how some of you mentioned that the emotion really hit a cord inside of you. That is such a humble thing to know you are moved by how I convey the characters' emotions. Thank you. I have no words. I am grateful to have kind supporters like you! :)

And that was too cool to hear from you Guest: Heather that you'd agree Misty and Dani would be besties. :D Glad to hear you agree and thanks for sharing! I will have to make their friendship official in one of my upcoming fics. XD

Anyhow, to all my readers and of course to my super awesome beta reader, enjoy the new comical nonsense and familial/friendship feels to come!

**DISCLAIMER: **_Pokémon_ belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. My oc's belong to me. :)

* * *

**Junk of the Heart**

**Chapter 4**

_Bountiful Trouble Abound_

Delia had put Ash and Misty in charge of labeling all the stickers for the items, while Brock read off the list of prices she had set for each specific selling piece.

As for her, she was busy hauling the last remaining cartload of giveaway goodies out of the backyard, to her truck, and to the main part of town where the sale would take place. Mr. Mime helped out for quite a bit with the running back and forth process of heavier articles, but after the pokémon nearly cracked his back by lifting an overflowing stack of books Delia insisted for the creature to rest while they were at the sale. An overwhelmingly weighty box that unfortunately didn't have its residents stacked that nicely inside was the culprit, most likely the unthinking doing of Delia's hyper-active and absentminded son. So Mr. Mime retired to the house, cleaning _something_ Delia assumed, but as long as the pokémon wasn't inflicting more accidental harm upon himself she wasn't going to fight it. She had to finish loading for Ash and the others were still loitering, probably ready for another cluster of items to price and arrange on the tables.

Walking behind the house for what felt like the hundredth time, Delia was at last at the end of the packaging process. She had collected all the cardboard boxes next to the back door and was now heading towards the fairly spacious shed. Most of the storage inside consisted of her gardening tools; shovels, rakes, hoes, gloves, buckets, and pruners neatly organized on the few shelves or propped up against the wall. It was a little addition that her husband had arranged to have, a special surprise for his new wife knowing of her passion for flowers and her natural green thumb. It was an utmost heartwarming thought, her heart beating in such serene content when Jay originally revealed the final product to her after spending days constructing it. Of course though, he had requested Ernest's handy help, making Delia's heart swell all the more knowing he wanted to build the shed so badly for her, that he'd go as far as to put up with his cantankerous father-in-law.

Remembrances of that time danced in her head as Delia gradually creaked open the door, the late morning's rays gracing its light inside the small building. Having intentions of selling a few extra tools Ernest had given her years ago, Delia entered with a box resting between her arm and hip, only for her to freeze barely two steps into the shed. She had seen it there every time she went to fetch a shovel to dig out a bothersome weed or a pruner to cut back a rose bush Ash had got himself in, and yet, she was always left with a bitter sting to her deprivation of affection. After disappearing in the rain that stormy night four years ago, Delia angrily stored Jay's motorcycle in the shed not knowing where else to put the blasted thing. All the vehicle left her with was the feeling of loss, an attachment once so heavily secured by trust and devotion, ripped away without a single warning- becoming unobtainable.

Hands clamped themselves onto the clunky box, the gardening utensils she grabbed and placed inside shaking in her clutch. Despondent chestnut eyes dragged back to the motorcycle. Delia supposed she could sell it given the perfect opportunity to finally free herself from the harrowing reminder of her past love, but then again...

What if he_ did_ come back?

Delia drew back.

She didn't want to keep Ash waiting, and so with a final glance, Delia closed the shed door and permitted the darkness to return.

* * *

During the first hour of opening, the sale was bustling with people.

Both vendors and spenders were plentiful, making Tom believe that the overall gathering was the best that he had seen in years for their little slice of heaven. Delia herself couldn't argue the vast crowd that appeared to engulf each side of the small town. Tables and booths lined up near all the local businesses, each stand flocked with a decent amount of revenue and lively people. Money and goods were being exchanged like there was no tomorrow, and the new welcome sign to the cheery town of Pallet was about to receive a bountiful amount of cash for an even paint job and overall updated design.

Behind one out of the three tables owned by the Ketchums, the kids were grinning from ear to ear as they watched Delia make a huge profit off of her collection of items. Her wreaths were a big hit, mostly Ash thought because his mom was the kind of person to always revamp something old with new touches of craft supplies, adding to the charm of the aging decorations. All of the various goodies spread across Delia's tables were snatched up at a steady pace, cookbooks, fake flowers, CDs, holiday decorations, knickknacks and all. Delia felt relief soar through her as a wad of bills were handed to her, finally seeing the objects stowed away in her attic gone, providing the woman more space for future pieces.

Ash too was thankful to see some of his old belongings either out on display or taken in the hands of a different owner. An assortment of outgrown t-shirts and summer shorts sold like hotcakes, accompanied by his least favorite childhood toys and general pokémon paraphernalia. The thought of giving to others left Ash with a satisfied and humble feeling in his heart. He also was experiencing another kind of maturity altogether. As morning came the boy rethought about selling a few particular belongings. He decided to keep his baby trinkets which Delia was over the moon about. Seeing she was clinging to the full box of rattles, blankets, toys, and onesies when they originally started loading everything up, Ash eased his mom's tension and allowed her to keep what was special. Even if he still didn't understand her motherly tendencies fully, he respected her wishes and recognized that retaining every little keepsake came with the territory of being a dedicated mom. As for his own personal mementos... releasing the trike out of his custody was harder than expected, and considering yesterday's riveting chat between his mother and friends, Ash didn't feel ashamed anymore. He believed, for once in a long time, that he didn't need to feel so vulnerable, so sensitive as if walking on eggshells... He had a mother who understood him and friends who esteemed him.

So he kept the trike. Parked in the attic.

Overall as the day went on, the good weather of bright sunny rays and a gentle spring breeze magnified the pleasant time out buying and interacting. Yes, everything was going as smoothly as they all would have dreamed. Delia was now awarded with a cleaner and organized attic and the town was flourishing with spenders. With such ideal weather and friendly faces abound, the day couldn't get any more perfect.

Well, mostly _friendly_ faces.

"There sure is a big turnout," noted Brock, scanning across the engrossed area of people and shopping bags. He and his companions were located behind one table out of the three Delia was running by herself, standing by for any customers who might come their way.

"Is there ever!" exclaimed Misty, blown away by the sea of people. "It's kinda neat a small town like Pallet can attract so many people for a good cause."

"The town's always done stuff like this," commented Ash. "Even when Mom was a kid. I guess now it's kind of become a tradition."

"Well it's a good one," replied Misty. She liked the concept of a hospitable close-knit community who never minded lending a helping hand to others, or to simply share. Though her youthful age made her ignorant to the negative aspects small towns brought. Like _nosiness_.

Nonetheless, the trainers were in awe of the wide array of people coming back and forth, feeling all the more positive about the turnout and their overall commitment to bettering Pallet Town.

Eventually after their brief exchange of words, Brock spotted a small group of people coming their way, prepping his companions to be ready for any impending shoppers. "Looks like we might have some customers coming, guys," he observed, motioning them to be attentive and in their designation positions.

Behind the three kids stood a secured playpen (which they luckily found in Delia's attic to boot), allowing them to work and vigilant to the buyers needs without having to worry about their pokémon wandering off. Specifically _Togepi_. Pikachu sat with her of course, keeping the little one entertained with silly faces and sweet coos of chatter. Once the crowd thinned out, Ash hoped to have Pikachu perched back up on his shoulder, and for he and his friends to go scout the sale for themselves.

As the huddling of people passed on by their strewed out table, one person felt inclined to travel elsewhere. And so the kids earned their first purchaser of the day, for most in those first couple of hours had found more appealing trinkets on Delia's other two tables rather than the one they were managing. It was a stout woman who approached their table, her eyes examining across the display of various items, her hands balancing a purse and what looked like a bag already full of purchases. She eventually stopped glancing about, her gaze settled on a grouping of pincushions. A twinkle of fascination in her eyes emerged, singling out the item and checking its price-tag. Unfortunately instead of her walking to the cash register near Brock, the woman instead released a loud gasp of raging stupefaction.

"This is ridiculous!" she belted out, holding the three pincushions up in the air, which were wrapped together nicely in a decorated white ribbon. "What sensible person would charge three-hundred dollars for a set of pincushions?!"

Did she just say three hundred dollars? All the children froze stiff in their spots, eyes the only thing moving as they lingered to each other in unison. If it meant anything, the pincushions did not bare average designs. They were a set of three different things: a strawberry, a ledyba, and a patch-worked heart. All very much intricate with playful unique styles than a dull plain colored pin holder. Though of course, even with its more appealing stick-work, the semi-used pincushions were not worth of a fortune of three hundred bucks!

Their quizzical looks persisted as they glanced at one another, till Brock steadily stepped in. "Ma'am, you must be mistaken," he started calmly, slightly confused by her outrageous claim. "The pincushions are only worth three dollars."

"I am not blind young man!" the woman shouted back defensively in a scoff. "See for yourself!"

Extending her arm forward, the vexed woman shoved the price-tag near Brock's face, inches away from his eyes and nose as he backed up. He clenched his teeth a little in nervousness, hardly prepared to confront any angry customer, let alone his _first_ one of the day. But as he took a close look at the supposedly monstrously marked up amount, a big lump settled in Brock's throat.

"O-oh," he croaked, seeing the evidence for himself. "Well then who?-"

Instantaneously, Ash felt two pairs of eyes dash their way at him. A puzzled expression from Brock and a rather aggravated one from Misty. Out of nervousness, a silly grin slipped from his lips, his gaze going back and forth between his friends. Okay, so _maybe_ this was his fault. But it wasn't his intention for a problem to arise! It was a measly mistake, one in which he had no intention of causing. He knew better, and he definitely _knew_ the dot should have been there. His B- in math proved that! But with all the intriguing junk spread across tabletops, the various pokémon he saw walking about with their owners, and the fact that he didn't get much sleep the night before anxious for the sale to come the following day...

Nonetheless, Ash was _one hundred_ percent positive he had put a dot between the rest of the prices, his one mistake of course, vividly exposing itself and making a spectacle.

Shoulders stiffed and rose with tension, a harsh glare solely seeking out Ash to give a thorough scolding. "Ash, that says _three hundred_," moaned Misty, smacking her face with her hand. "You needed to put a dot between the three and the zeroes!" lectured the girl, leaning into his personal space.

A furrowing of dark eyebrows and huff emerged. "I know that, I'm not stupid! And I didn't mean to! I was just distracted!" Ash defended, closing in on the few inches separating them. "And I'm pretty sure all the others were marked correctly!"

In retaliation, Misty growled at his ridiculous reply. "Distracted? What in the world could have been distracting you? And you can't just be pretty sure!-"

"Chill! Chill, guys!" As if repeating like an old broken record, Brock cautiously stepped between his bickering companions, a hand from each side easing the temperamental Misty and the overly fragile Ash. They already appeared unprofessional as it was with the mislabeled value, and he didn't need their squabbling to affect people's decision on journey over to Delia's table or not. After all, they were _trying_ to make a profit not scare all their prospective buyers away!

Bearing a placid expression, Brock sifted his focus back onto the peeved woman. "Ma'am, if you're interested in the pincushions I can assure you they're _only_ three dollars," he said with a coolness, hoping Ash and Misty's begrudging silence for a moment would seal the deal.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

In a blatant huff, the woman tossed the pincushions on the table. "Humph! If that's how you're running this stand then you can forget my services!" she barked, adjusting the strap on her purse before waddling away in an over-dramatized fit.

Stunned by her outlandishly rude behavior, the trainers observed the woman stomp off to another section of tables completely aghast. It was understandable that the hefty price might have startled her, but for her to become so outwardly choleric over such a minor and explainable fix? It was absolutely ludicrous, and the fear of this clearly bad-tempered woman spreading the word about Delia's unfairly priced items stemmed worry inside all of them. In particular, the irascible redhead.

Groaning, Misty spun around, her hands raised in the air as she bellowed another yell. "Great, Ash! Now we lost a customer!"

"Why does it matter to you?" the boy countered. "It's not like we're making profit off of any of this stuff!"

"It's the principal of the sale, Ash! We're supposed to have the tags ready and marked _correctly._ Now we have to hurry and fix them all before more people come over!"

"_Relax_, Misty. We'll take care of it," Brock eased again. Honestly, when did he ever get a break moderating these two? He comprehended her legitimate frustrations, but he knew hollering at Ash wouldn't solve the problem. If anything it would have fueled the fire.

Steadily, from the corner of his eye he watched a grumbling Misty, while most of his attention was drawn to his piqued young friend. "Ash, do you remember where you placed all the items you marked?" Brock asked, trying to resolve the issue.

An exasperated shrug and sigh was produced. "I dunno, all over the place I guess. Why do I have to remember?" he whined.

Heightened anxiety refused to remain silent, urging Misty to snap once again with tightened fists. "Because _you_ messed up!" she yelled, finding his uncooperative attitude and clueless view on the matter insufferable. "_That's_ why."

So it was _his_ fault that the obviously unhappy woman had her panties in a bunch over something so trivial and easily fixable? There was no denying Ash's carelessness, but he didn't prod her to behave in such a cross manner!

Chocolate eyes deepened in shade, and midnight brows creased closer together. "Don't blame all of this on me, Misty!" Ash roared, continuing the unnecessary bickering. "That stupid lady was the one out of line!-"

"Well, lookie here!"

As if time stood perfectly still, the quarrel was terminated. Ash and Misty's eyes remained locked, noticing the intensity and color change within each other's pupils. Did they just hear who they _thought_ they heard? Dumbfounded expression formed as their gazes traveled forward, slowly looking to first discover the shadow, and then the owner. A fellow trainer they all hoped _not_ to see at the sale. Though they knew it was inevitable. Standing right before them, was the very boy all expected, nasally voice accompanied by a conceited flicking of brunette bangs and smug grin.

Gary Oak snickered at their surprised state.

"If it isn't the most pathetic pokémon trainer in all of Pallet? And apparently, he doesn't know how to correctly write price tags either!" Gary remarked hurtfully, his cocky smile morphing into an outright sarcastic smirk. Then, he threw his expression at his rival. "How you doin' Ash? Finally decided to sell your_ bottles_ and _pacifiers_? I bet you cried when you had to give them up. Me?" he said proudly, placing his hand on his chest with his nose sticking high and mighty in the air. "I quit 'em cold turkey at six months old."

Brock cocked an eyebrow, staring at the boy oddly. "Uh, no baby can quit using at least a pacifier at six months. I should know." After all, he was the one with siblings. Little ones to boot, ranging from newborns to toddlers. Brock once was the one aiding, if not filling in for his quirky and rather scatterbrained mother while his father was off trying to make it as a renowned trainer.

Gary glanced to the older trainer, hardly moved by his words. "What? You still have yours?" he retorted.

Anger bloomed quickly and fervidly inside Ash, both insulted by the bully's accusations against himself and his companion. Feet stomped forward, confronting the brunette face to face. "Leave Brock alone, Gary!-"

"And do us all a favor and just _leave_," added Misty with a sharp snarl, placing her hands on her hips. "You're _not_ wanted here."

She was giving him a rather peeved look, one in which Ash himself would incidentally back up into a tree to avoid the wrath of an ever mercurial Misty. Nonetheless, Gary was once again unaffected by her bark and piercing sea-green eyes. He apparently, wasn't fearful of getting a taste of the combative girl.

"Humph! I'm just walkin' around checkin' things out," he replied defensively, as if bearing innocent intentions. "Am I not allowed to see what's for sale?"

"You're not interested in any of my bottles are you?" countered Ash with a hopeful sting to his rival's pride.

Gary simply scoffed. "Don't be stupid, Ash. I just wanted to see if you finally threw such childish things away. Speaking of which," he started slowly, eyes glancing about with a mischievous glimmer, "I don't see that trike you love so much. Wanna ride it around a couple more times before you put the ol' girl up for sale?"

Another jab at Ash's dignity struck a deep cord, his fury boiling into vivid repugnance between clenched teeth and reddening cheeks. "Arrgh!" he growled, fists clenched firmly causing knuckles to swell.

As she sucked in a worried inhale, Misty read her friend's rage on a deeper level. She could hear Pikachu let out an upset cry, his little paw clinging to the top of the pen as small sparks took off from his red cheeks. The mouse could sense his master's growing embarrassment; how Ash was channeling his anger to cope and deter any more barbed comments. It was the result of what Ash feared from the beginning. His fear of what Gary would say in a situation like this, how many times before in their childhood he had went out of his way to give Ash grievances over such innocent meaningful things that deserved no puncturing of injurious. It was the fear he had expressed to Misty and Brock so meekly.

Whatever frustration erupted inside the redhead vanished out of thin air, her main priority no longer being addressing the importance of proper labeling of charges.

But standing up for him.

Slamming a strong foot forward, Misty stepped in front of Ash in a hostile snarl. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with holding onto sentimental items!" she barked, pleased to see she faintly caught Gary off guard. "I still have my favorite doll my parents gave me before they passed away."

An unnerved expression faded, as if Gary had earned another chance to poke fun. "I bet you still sleep with it," he shot back.

"Yeah, what of it?" frowned Misty. "At least I'm not afraid to admit it."

Gary appeared to recoil from Misty's harsh glare, though his mind was working quickly to deflect. He had expected Ash's little pals to tag along to the sale, but he did not anticipate being confronted by the girl with the side ponytail. She clearly had a strong spirit, one in which people could admire, one in which some may wish they had. One in which Gary could exploit.

The creeping of a grin returned to Gary's lips, all three of the trainers watching him with concern as he chuckled to himself. "Ain't that sweet, Ashy? You got your _girlfriend_ over here defending you," he teased, his tone making a mockery out of their supposed "relationship". Ash could feel his cheeks heat at the declaration, his eyes subtly peeking over at his female companion, who blushed just as much if not more. What was Gary going to do next? Make assumption of how their "dates" went about? How clumsy of an oaf Ash was around her and in that argument always spewed? Dating or not, those two were _forever _disputing.

"I guess you guys make a good pair," Gary continued to berate, shrugging as if they were bound to be more than friends. "Considering you relate on a similar level. You know, about keeping sentimental treasures? Like you keeping stuff that reminds you of your _deadbeat_ dad."

The word "deadbeat" hit Ash hard in the chest, his heart pounding wildly as his mind fell stunned by the powerful sting. Gary's remark sprung itself on Ash as if he didn't predict to hear that fall from his mouth, yet he heard it too many times to count. At that instant, Ash felt small compared to everyone else around him that the unavoidable negative perspective on his father would always leave him wounded and difficult to defend. He hated the reminder of what the majority of the townsfolk believed, how whatever positive memories Ash had of his dad were tainted by the inconsiderate words spread. The few things he had from his dad, the plush Pikachu sitting on his shelf that was kept in pristine condition... He didn't want Gary to see how he had grazed his feelings, he didn't want tears to emerge, and he didn't even want to scream, to justify his father as a decent human being.

In most instances, Ash would do so without a second thought, yell at the top of his lungs till Gary was satisfied enough with his personal tormenting to walk away. But for once, Ash didn't_ feel_ the need to screech and turn red in the face like a tomato till he was run dry of protecting his dad. He didn't want to be criticized for holding onto such valuable and dear physical remembrances of a presence the boy once treasured to have daily. Seeing the actual presence he adored and appreciated as much as his mother slipped out of his fingers that blustery haunting night. So why should Ash have to defend his actions? Protect the man he knew his dad to be? And when did becoming hostile with Gary, to feed into his nonsense, get him anywhere?

Pained cloudy chocolate eyes looked to Misty. Her own softened, a faint steady nod following as if he could interpret what she spoke through her lovely eyes alone. Their discussion from last night... she understood.

Steadily with a calming breath, Ash turned back to Gary.

"You're right," he said.

Gary fumbled. "_What_?"

"You heard me," Ash repeated. "_You're right_. I do like to keep stuff that... matters to me. That reminds me of things or... people. But so what?" he continued with a bit more assertiveness. "That just means I'm uh- sentimental kinda guy. But you're wrong about one thing Gary. And I think you know _exactly_ what I mean."

The bite in his tone caused Gary to draw back slightly, his gaze however, unmoved as he narrowed his brows at Ash. It was a definite stare down, Gary astounded by Ash's unusual comeback, while the raven-haired boy felt poised and proud of his witty response. At last Gary's mouth was tightly shut, at last powerless in the situation. Ash held his head high, only for a second did he wandered his attention to Misty and Brock who, each subtly gave him a nod. A nod that meant they weren't going anywhere. That they were there to stand their ground with him. Then, a gentle but confident smile sprouted on Misty's lips. His reaction did a one-eighty turn compared to yesterday's escapades in the attic, and Misty couldn't have been more proud. Because Ash felt secure in his own shoes. Because it finally sunk into his thick skull that he did have trustworthy and dedicated friends. And that made the redhead smile all the more.

_Good going, Ash._

Misty's silent moment of praise however, was cut shortly after once noticing the silhouette of another stranger being cast on the dirt road. What looked like the flash of a familiar white lab coat and graying hair appeared out of nowhere, causing all to blink in surprise and swivel loosely on their heels.

"Ah, hello kids!"

Identifying the possessor of the outline was done without any doubt, all gaping as they staggered backwards at the sight of the man.

"Prof. Oak?!"

His unforeseen presence could have been taken as blessing in disguise or a curse. Ash in particular, did not want Gary to use this opportunity to lie to his grandfather, and turn the tables around as if _he_ was the victim of the jeering. In many past cases, Prof. Oak was quietly quick-witted enough not to buy into the balderdash stirred up between the two boys. Then again, the older man didn't intervene much either when there was a petty squabble of sorts. He felt it wise for Ash and Gary to work out their problems themselves, unless it was affecting the environment of others or severely causing unwarranted agony onto each other. That Prof. Oak _wouldn't_ tolerate and certainly would take action in ceasing.

Ash just hoped that this was an occurrence in which fair intervention would take place.

The trainers' startled greeting didn't seem to move the professor in any form, a kind smile he was wearing to Ash, Misty, and Brock. Even when he threw his gaze over to his grandson, forming just a twinkle of suspicion in his eye.

"Gary," Prof. Oak began in a soft authoritative tone, his hands behind his back, "I think it's best if you conserve energy elsewhere and help your mother."

"Mom doesn't need my help," the boy insisted, a tad uncomfortable by his grandpa's sudden appearance and command.

"That's not what she told me. See for yourself."

By the gesture of Prof. Oak's hand, Gary followed his grandfather's given direction, eyes soon locked with his mother from a far. Across the opposite side, behind a table covered in what appeared to be expensive curtains and clothing, was a blonde haired woman. Her curly medium length locks bounced in the soft flow of the wind. Her pretty blue eyes and dangling tangerine earrings glistened as she waved playfully to her son.

"_Oooh_, Gar-bear!" she called loudly. Her voice was nasally, but much softer than the harshness of her son's voice as it echoed inside all ears and revealed the pet-name Annie Oak had given her only child.

Streaks of pink appeared on each cheek and ear, Gary's flushed state hurriedly pivoting away from Ash and his friends to his mother. "What, Ma?!" he screeched, fists tight at his sides.

"Come over here, please!" she beckoned, holding up what appeared to be a plush hitmonchan and clefable. "You still need to decide if you want to give away Punchy Patton and Snuggle-Cuddle!"

Bright red in the face, Gary's cheeks swelled and his nostrils flared as the humiliation ate at his dignity. "Uggh!" he groaned, shouting back at his mom. "I told you _I do_!"

Sweet victory crawled inside Ash instantly, as if fireworks were lit and set off powerful explosions. His vengeful side was bursting with inner uncontrollable laughter over his rival's cutesy nickname. And the reveal of Gary's _precious_ little companions and their _equally_ adorable names. "You better go to your mom, Gary," Ash soon prodded, a cheeky grin going from ear to ear. "Or as she likes to call you,_ Gar-bear_. And what's that about Punchy Patton the Hitmonchan and Snuggle-Cuddle the Clefable? You're still thinkin' about keeping them?"

Both Misty and Brock felt perspiration running down the backs of their heads. Turning to her older friend, the young girl sighed, "I knew he couldn't keep the maturity thing together completely. Sure enough if Gary faced a dilemma, Ash has to throw his two cents in."

Nodding in reply, Brock did try to give Ash a bit of a break. "True, but look at the maturity he showed initially back there. You've got to admit, he's made progress. I say we support the small victories."

Shrugging to Ash's efforts to support their friend, Misty nodded. "Agreed."

Fingers dug deeper into Gary's palms, his mortification shining through rich blush undertones and furrowed brows as he tried so hard to conceal it. To sum up, it was a painful taste of his own medicine.

Seeing the exchange was carrying on to a higher taunting level, Prof. Oak stepped in. "Now, now, boys," the older man cut in firmly. "That's enough-"

Scrunching his nose, Gary scoffed and interrupted his warning grandfather. "I wouldn't talk Ash," he sneered, attempting to think of something to throw back at his rival. And he did with one glimpse of the auburn haired woman nearby. And what she was standing right next to. Gradually, Gary's smirk returned, his eyes motioning for Ash to follow. "It looks like your mom is ready to put you down for a nap. She's standing right next to that old crib of yours. And frankly, you're a little cranky right now. Do you need to be burped too?"

A low rumble of a growl gyrated in Ash's throat, his own hands forming into coiled fists in preparation to throw a decent punch. Gary had crossed a line. The crib remarks were crude and crushing to Ash's pride. He had stepped over _too many_ personal boundaries that he knew would potentially earn him a bloody nose. But he seemed not to care, cocking another grin as if _egging_ Ash to try and come at him.

But thankfully before a bloodbath commenced, Brock and Misty intervened.

"Knock it off, Gary," Brock sternly ordered, moving himself in front of Ash.

"Just get out of here!" Misty hollered.

Their matching intense glares didn't make Gary flinch as they would have hoped. However, they worked enough magic for him to _finally_ get the message of his undesired company.

"Believe me, _I will_. I don't want to be caught dead with you suckers," the bully announced, as if he was dying to flee from Ash and his companions.

The older man was getting exasperated with the berating his grandson was enacting on the trio. He had to put an end to this somehow. Eyes trailed off into the distance, his mind desperately working to think of some convenient interruption to seize Gary's attention. Then, by the grace of a given legendary pokémon, Prof. Oak spotted his opportunity in the form of a little boy wandering to Annie's booth. And what he grabbed.

"Gary," the professor interjected placing his hands about the young boy's shoulders and spinning him in the direction of the scene. "I think you might want to hurry yourself a little faster. It looks like you have a patron interested in purchasing Mr. Punchy Pants and he seems more than eager to pay full price."

Annoyance pierced Gary's mind. "His name is Punchy Patton!-" Cutting his words short, Gary realized the unwanted reveal he subconsciously made to not only multiple people, but to the boy he was rebuking specifically. Heat traced across his skin, the burning sensation intensifying with angered passion over his accidental exclamation. "Well, not that I care!" he hurriedly clarified. "That little baby can name him whatever he wants. I don't need him."

Thick eyebrows narrowing and a predominant frown prevalent about his face, the grandfather, who was getting peeved, carried on with a touch more sternness. "Gary, I'm only going to ask you this one more time. Please go help your mother. Who knows, you might want Snuggle-Bug too."

The frustration boiled, rumbling without restraint.

"His name_ is_!-Aw, fine!" Gary huffed, ruffled by his slip-up and the continual inspecting stares of his actions. "I'll go!"

All three trainers were relieved to see Gary leave. That is, till he twirled back on his heels and threw one last comeback he couldn't _help_ but proclaim. After all, he didn't want the conversation to end based on his own embarrassing interactions. "Don't cry too much once your crib goes bye-bye Ash! Ahahaha!" he waved mockingly, then jaunted off with the return of his conceited bounce in steps.

The less than married mingling of Gary's distant cackling to Ash's persisting snarls infiltrated all ears, Prof. Oak particularly growing impatient by the endless banter. _Especially_ when his grandson went as far as to make a sarcastic crack at Delia and have it involve something as childish as the mention of a crib. Oh, what the professor would have to do to straighten out his grandson _again_ and the ongoing frustration between Gary's mean streak and his admirable side the man adored like any other grandfather. But at times like this... the frustration was too much. And as much as he didn't appreciate Ash's haughty replies, Gary was pleading to have digs returned to him.

"Young man, I suggest you make your gait fast and swiftly!" Prof. Oak implied seriousness evident in his voice and posture. "And mind you, we _will_ have a talk later! You can count on that!" _Oh, the ongoing nonsense..._

The silence stretched out only for a brief moment, the older man wallowing in his thoughts over the exasperating altercation. He plastered a soft smile back on his face however, directing his attention to the flustered children before him. He wasn't in the mindset to hear complaints about Gary; rather interfering as swiftly as he did, Prof. Oak snatched the opportunity to start again on the right foot.

"So kids," the professor started, "how's the sale going? I mean, besides that little dispute."

"It's been going well," Brock answered for them, seeing Ash was already tempted to blow some serious steam. "Besides _that_ and well- other things." He didn't even dream of rehashing the details of the overly sensitive woman who meandered to their tables earlier.

Prof. Oak nodded, thankful to hear so. Then, he got right down to business, asking the very question he originally had intentions of pursing- till the untimely dispute. "By the way Ash, your mother wouldn't happen to have a tea kettle up for grabs, would she?" he questioned, turning his attention to the boy.

Ash was still in a haze of vexation, trying to break out of the fixation Gary so often put him in. "Uh, I don't think so," he replied, glancing over his shoulder to survey his mother's tables again. His nerves were still aggravated by his rival's grating tone and judgement.

"That's a shame," Prof. Oak said, a light frown sweeping across his complexion. "I've been scouting for one for quite a while now. I would have hoped at a booming sale such as this that one vendor or two might be carrying a tea kettle."

"Yeah, you would think." _I'm REALLY not in the mood to talk, _Ash thought to himself. _But I know Prof. Oak means well, and he DID get Gary to go away..._ Mustering his composure, Ash tried to change his tune. "Maybe my grandma has one," he suggested gesturing down the road.

"Ah, yes! I have neglected to survey Leah's table!" the older man cheerily declared. "I suppose I should mosey on over and see for myself..."

His daze drifted to the table belonging to the Parkers, quite a distance from the one he was currently at. Another peer was also given towards Gary before making his leave, double-checking his grandson would stay put for the rest of the time. And apparently, he was attempting to con the child into persuading him to let him buy back Punchy Patton.

_Hopefully, things will simmer down now... Never mind he's soliciting to a six-year-old..._

Creating another sunny grin, Prof. Oak motioned towards the three trainers with a wave. "Well then, enjoy the weather and best of luck!"

He left their side without a fight, though neither Ash, Misty, or Brock, felt completely at ease after being ambushed by two uncalled for incidents. Breathing deeply, they all released heavy sighs.

Best of luck? With how everything was panning out in such miserable unexpected cruelty that it was almost laughable...

Luck was not on their side.

* * *

While the sale was going absolutely splendid for her and her profits, sadly, no one was giving that arbok coat-rack a second look.

And Delia could hardly blame anyone.

Despite its macabre appearance, she would have hoped_ someone_ would take it off her hands, for her to _finally_ have it out of her house. Delia always detested it, mostly because she jumped every time she entered through the front door and saw those piercing dark eyes of the serpent heads glaring at her. The intricate piece of furniture was an anniversary present, given by Delia's mother-in-law as the year marked her third year of marriage. Delia only wished she never mentioned that she and Jay were in need of one to put their and little Ash's jackets and coats on. But trying to appreciation the kind thought of Emily providing a gift, Delia tolerated the coat-rack's existence... for a week. So unable to walk by without cringing at the thing, Delia soon approached her husband to propose the disposing of the frightful piece, only for him to agree passionately that the fork-tongued creatures were the last thing he wanted to see when coming home from work. Knowing it was inevitable to discard the hardly charming decor piece _because_ of Emily the pair stored it _far_ back in the corner of the attic and left it in the dusty dark space without considering otherwise.

As years passed, Delia had almost forgotten about it (or more like_ tried_ to), till she saw those soulless eyes staring right at her when Brock and Ash innocently picked the coat-rack up, and asked her where to put it. She supposed it was the best time to take the chance and remove it from her house, seeing it had been years of allowing cobwebs to waste its existence away, and the likelihood of Emily making a random appearance was scant...

Another potential buyer walked on by without giving the stark black coat-rack a single look, a couple others subtly shuddering at the sight before scurrying at a faster pace. Delia sighed. At this rate, she was going to have to haul the atrocious monster back home or beg pathetically on the street for _someone_ to take it off her hands, even if she had to lower the price.

Or would she?

"So you thought you could sell your anniversary present without me finding out? This is quite sneaky for the likes of you Delia."

Tinted dark violet sunglasses and expensive heels accompanied the sound of the familiar woman's nerve grinding voice, along with her ever so perfectly styled dark auburn hair. Confirming her rising suspicions, Delia twirled around to find the very person she dreaded to see. The young mother winced to herself. She should have expected such.

"H-hi, Emily," Delia grinned nervously at her mother-in-law. "I thought you didn't like these sales."

Emily's frown remained. "I don't. But Annie thought there might be some antiques that I would like- That your _mother_ is selling. And apparently, you are also selling things I might like. Or one I originally bought."

"It just didn't go well in the house," she confessed, her anxiety showing through her weak smile and movements. "I don't have a lot of... black and scaly things," she went on explaining, glancing to the coat-rack. "I thought maybe it would go to a good home with someone who appreciates its- craft."

"Well if you wanted to give it a good home I don't think a silly junk sale like this would provide the perfect clientele that you are supposedly seeking."

Unsure what to say, Delia bit down on her tongue.

She could have sworn Emily tolerated her, possibly even_ liked_ her when Jay was still around. After that, whatever minimal amount of mutual respect they shared had been tossed aside, as if Delia deserved taking the impertinent remarks Emily meant to be delivered to her absent son. Too many times there were to count of Emily prancing in on Delia in an awkward position or stating a stance in which the young mother couldn't defend herself. Superficial things Emily would scrutinize her over such as: her unfavorable view on Delia sewing Ash's baby clothes and blankets with blood, sweat, and tears, instead of buying them from a reputable overly priced store. Granted in the beginning stage of their marriage, Delia and Jay didn't _have _a large sum of money, working humbly with what they could afford. Nonetheless, there was criticism abound. Or basic repeated offenses would occur ranging from how and what flowers Delia would arrange in her flowerpots to the way she dressed. To put it simply as Delia's husband would boldly proclaim: Emily, his _own_ mother, essentially ridiculed one's existence based on choices and preferences opposite of hers.

And once seeing Emily in full swing over the past years, Delia found Jay's claim more so a statement rather than an opinion. However, she certainly didn't feel as brave enough as to confront her mother-in-law like Jay might have so recklessly done...

Between Emily's intense stares and the anticipation for Delia to say something, the woman smiled sheepishly. "Guess I should take it off the market?" she shrugged.

Pursed lips and avoidance of eye contact ensued, Emily looking about with raised brows and a sigh of exasperation. "No, no. Let it find a new home," she insisted, her self-pity beginning. "I can blame myself for all of this. I didn't think to get an anniversary gift that would go well with your second-hand, bohemian, rustic decor. And that lumpy sofa."

"It's not _that_ lumpy-"

"So you're telling me you'd rather sell my gorgeous coat-rack over that hideous goldenrod thing you call a couch?"

If answering truthfully was an option, then yes. Delia would sell that slithering shadowy coat-rack any day over her practical and beloved sofa. That "hideous goldenrod thing" was the first piece of furniture she and Jay bought as a married couple. Although it was a secondhand item, it was in good condition on its original purchase and had proven itself to hold up after over ten years of being squashed and laid upon. Much more functional than the coat-rack that held cobwebs over actual jackets.

Withering hands locked as Delia glanced in awkwardness again. "It's sentimental," she mumbled, referring to the "lumpy" couch.

Emily scoffed. "Sentimental doesn't beat functionality."

_That's one person's opinion, _Delia thought to herself, releasing an internal rebuttal. _Oh, why did I have to run into Emily today of ALL days? The last thing I need is her asking me why-_

"When were you going to get around and tell me my grandson was home before he went off to the league?" Emily abruptly interrogated, her forehead wrinkling. "Honestly Delia, do you have any social decorum?"

Snapping out of her silent dialogue, Delia's mouth gaped. Was Emily a mind reader now?

In _all_ honestly over the issue, the reminder to tell Emily and Richard of Ash's brief homecoming had... slipped Delia's mind. Between work, maintaining her sprouting garden, and smothering her son with attention while he was home were the woman's first priorities. Avoiding her husband's parents like the plague sounded much more enticing rather than filling them in on every aspect of her life. Delia had obtained that mindset from Jay himself! Yet being the patient and nonjudgmental woman she was Emily was able to work guilt into her daughter-in-law through a demeaning tone and shameful expressions.

"I'm so sorry, Emily," Delia breathed, beseeching for her to listen through her tone. "I was going to call you, but with so much going on-"

"In your life, _I know_. I have heard the speech before, Delia. You need to revamp it, it's starting to sound rehearsed."

Delia shrunk further into her raised shoulders. "I will get on that," she replied meekly.

It seemed she sufficed Emily enough for the woman to remain quiet, only for her gaze to wander about the vicinity, landing straight on the midnight haired boy in the Pokémon League cap.

Her frown stiffened, brows arching further. "Who are those children?" Emily asked flatly.

_Shoot! _Delia mentally hissed. "Ash's friends," she instead answered out loud. "They're traveling with him and I'm letting them stay with us."

From the explanation an unexpected sigh fell from Emily's lips, leaving Delia confused as to what the older woman was thinking. In her own mind, Delia was a bit apprehensive about her son's companions meeting Emily in any instance. She knew Brock and Misty would behave and be cordial without question, but Delia didn't want Emily's personality to scare them or upset them in any fashion. She herself underwent such ridiculous condemnation at an impressionable age.

"Well if they're traveling with him I suppose it is only right to extend the invitation to them as well," Emily eventually said, as if making an upcoming decision.

Delia lowered her brows in puzzlement. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Richard's coming home from the Orange Islands tomorrow- as you can imagine it was _partially_ a business trip," the older woman added in a critical tone, implying as if Delia should understand the underlining meaning behind a rendezvous to the beautiful beaches of the Orange Islands. And she did indeed know perfectly without question.

"Anyway," Emily started again, her tone relaxing, "he'll be back and I thought with him home and Ash here, we could all have dinner together. Just like old times," she concluded with her first small smile.

Delia grinned back faintly with forced teeth. Oh yes, how she missed those old times.

Immediately, she comprehended Emily was nothing more concerned than about setting two extra places at the table for an unnecessary and hardly agreed upon dinner. It had been years since Delia attended the ever so nutty meals hosted by a bitter Emily and reclusive Richard. The worst part about attending presently was that the kids would be subjected to their behavior and for Delia's own sake- Jay wasn't there to lean on for support.

Carefully considering her response, Delia's words came out slowly. "Dinner? Well, I suppose-"

"If it's not too much trouble?" interrupted Emily, a hint of patronizing in her vocal cords. "I'm assuming you wouldn't have anything important going on at six to eight 'clock at night, especially with children in the house. Unless you have a date. _Do _you have a date?"

Sucking in another inhale to calm her nerves, Delia took the facetious blow by her mother-in-law. Though, the mention of having a "date" was severely aggravating her nerves and outraging her upstanding morals Emily _knew _she had.

"No Emily," Delia said, replying with her own flare of soft sarcasm, "I _don't_ have a date. I don't have much of a social life either if that makes you feel any better."

A roll of the eyes proceeded. "My, my, you just performed a wonderful impression of Jayce."

"Well, I've been practicing."

Having her fill, Emily tightened the strap of her pure leather purse, standing stiff as a board. "I won't be staying much longer so say hello to Ash for me."

_Thank goodness for that._

"Can do," replied Delia.

"I'll see you Sunday then at six with the children. _Don't_ be late."

And with a firm point as if emphasizing the reminder, Emily strutted away. Relief poured over Delia once her mother-in-law was a good distance from where she stood; though the basking in silent solace withered suddenly at the repetition of Emily's haunting words in her head. Sunday... that meant in _two_ days Delia would have to have an excruciating dinner with _not_ _only_ her in-laws but with the kids to boot. And she would have to find proper dinner attire for Brock and Misty to wear- And to make matters worse, she didn't even get a say as to _when_ the dinner should take place! With irritation bubbling, Delia kept a close eye on Emily as she marched over to Annie's table, seeing she was already in the midst of interrogating her daughter and Gary.

Now Delia had another job to include on her to-do list for the day. Find an owner for that grim coat-rack and announce to Ash the delightful news of dinner with his ever so life-sucking grandparents.

* * *

Another hour passed, still keeping up a steady flow of paying customers and ridding of various items.

Haplessly, unlike the rest of the goodly acts happening, a few tables down from Delia's, a heinous crime was beginning to brew. Lurking in the shadows of umbrella covered tables stood a pair appearing hardly suspicious in their attire, but bore shifty eyes and crafty fingers. Without anyone peeking from either side, a violet haired woman, in particular, put her mischievous hands to work and snatched an embroidered exeggcute and exeggutor pillow off of a table, and hurriedly stuffed the cushy interior decor piece under her long flowing shirt while no one was looking. She then pulled down the hem of her cotton cherry printed off-white top, making small adjustments to the round plump pillow as if her appearance was authentic.

After watching her struggle with the addition to her disguise for a few minutes, James wasn't left with the impression of a pregnant woman in the sale's midst.

"You hardly look convincing," he commented, a thoughtful hand resting below his chin as his other balanced his pointed elbow. "Here, let me-"

"Don't touch me James!" hissed Jessie, batting his helpful hand away. "I'm in charge of my own body!"

"But it looks so obvious that you just stuffed a pillow under your shirt!" argued James, his voice lowered in a harsh whisper. "You can't make your stomach look so lumpy!" She acted as if he was violating the sanction of a woman's body, which was definitely _not _James's intention!

"Then let _me_ reshape it," she spat, working on smoothing out every uneven bump. "Honestly, I could never get pregnant! I would hate to ruin this beautiful figure of mine."

"I tought it was cuz you'd neva find a mate," a voice from below mumbled.

Jessie gleamed down to the ground and glared at her feline partner in crime. "I'm going to let that one slide. Be _thankful _for that," she grimaced, only because the Team Rocket agent didn't want her identity disclosed as their mission was just starting.

"Now, let's start moving. See what goodies the twerp's mom has for sale," she continued deviously, once fully satisfied with her new appearance. Jessie even went as far as to arch her back, and have her hands support the lower portion as if carrying a developing eight pound human being in her gut.

Beginning their journey with a couple of steps, Meowth unexpectedly jerked back on the collar and leash James had around his neck. His paws halting stubbornly in the dirt as tiny dust clouds floated in the air. The two grunts turned around and blinked back at the cat, his vexed expression unchanging.

"I hate dis! Dis is humiliating!" Meowth moaned, trying to get used to walking on all fours again. "I told you two idiots, I don't wanna do dis! Not in dis way, at least!"

Compared to Meowth, Jessie and James had simple and not nearly as mortifying costumes as him. Jessie wore a pair of light cuffed jeans, rhinestone ruby red flats, and her button up blouse, while James sported an orange and white checkered shirt, accompanied by dark jeans and a sleek pair of eyeglasses. They also wore wigs, Jessie's being a shade of purple and James's a dark brown. Any complaining coming from either of them was inexcusable to the cat, seeing he was not only dressed, but _placed_ in an outfit that contravened his dignity as a smooth-talkin' and _available_ male feline. Being held down by James and combating Jessie's hands with his claws was tragically fruitless as he slumped pitifully in the getup she so ingeniously decided for him. He was succumbed to wear a frilly ruffled yellow dress with the additional accessories of a bright green bow to complete the ensemble. Not exactly what he envisioned in playing a house-pet. Then again, their agenda was to deceive the twerp and company, not attract them with obvious hints of Jessie and James dressing in white uniforms… and Meowth being male.

Unmoved by his quibbling, Jessie flipped her wig braided tresses with a fixed glare. "Quit whining. No one is going to think anything of it. If anyone should be feeling insecure it's me."

"Really? I beg to differ," the cat retorted, appearing glum. He despised the tight leash and collar as well, wanting all the more to be free and not succumb to his "owners'" bad fashion taste. "You're just carryin' an ugly pillow to full term. As for me, my whole identity is in jeopardy. Because seriously, do I _looks_ like a girl to you?!" he spat with pointed pearly white fangs, bearing his teeth as whiskers irritably twitched to his partners.

"Just don't advertise your back end and you'll be fine!" barked James, now becoming both annoyed with Jessie's fussiness and his furry friend's consistent objections.

"And remember to meow_ not_ talk," Jessie threw in, as if reminding a child to do his or her homework or say thank you when receiving a meal or gift. "Now stop your incessant griping and move, Meowth! There's no time to dillydally. If we want Pikachu and the money we can't mess this up. So suck up your pride and just do it!"

Just do it... Like Meowth hadn't heard that one before. And the end result always being he and his partners blasting off into the stratosphere.

Sighing begrudgingly, the cat gave in and dolefully walked behind James. "Da tings I put up with..."

Trouble digressed once Meowth lost the energy to grumble any more protests, their scouting around the sale tactful with sly eyes. Everyone in town was just so... happy. All smiles, bursts of laughter, and fair exchanges of money right into locked cash boxes was plenteous no matter where one peered. Jessie was growing nauseated by the sight, simply because she was not used to such a vivacious atmosphere. From her perspective, she felt Pallet Town and its people were comparable to some quirky town in a children's picture book where the quaint settlement was painted a hundred different colors and everyone was sprinkled with some kind of magic dust that prevented them from any remote feeling of depression.

Footsteps eventually stopped at the spotting of a familiar auburn haired woman, handing a full bag of trinkets to a father and daughter. Retracting, Jessie leaned into James's ear and whispered.

"There she is," she said, scheming eyes looking to Delia. "Act natural."

Hands behind James's back while holding onto Meowth's leash, and Jessie over-exaggerating her balancing palms against her "bloated back", the three began their acted harmless scout across Delia's tabletops. Customers were still scattered around Delia's area, not many, but enough to deter the twerp and company from fully paying attention to them. Soaking it all in, there wasn't much worth pocketing to the agents, all typical items one would find in a domestic home.

Actually, the showing was a bit of a disappointment to the greedy grunts, till a bubbly shriek seeped from James's lips. Turning around after tossing down an unused picture frame, the female agent looked oddly at her partner. Hunched slightly over the table, James appeared to have his arms out, as if holding something that was absolutely entrancing. Curious, Jessie bounded over after another call of her name.

"Ooo, Jessie!" he squealed, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Look at this vast collection!"

Peering over his shoulder, the woman saw a thick worn book clenched in James's grasp. And by just seeing the cover Jessie automatically knew the genre of the book. She should have expected James to like _these _kinds of novels and become absorbed in such an enormous array of magical stories of passion.

"These romance novels sound absolutely enticing!" he went on enthusiastically, soon picking up one after another. "There's:_ The Soul of the Ashes, The Summer of the Enigma, The Door of the Auburn Consort, Ruby of Heritage, Locket of Ivy, The Meadow's Necklace,_ and _Beginning in the Flowers_!-"

"Arrgh- Don't be ridiculous, James!" A whack to the back of James's head was received; the attack weapon actually being the two-hundred paged _Ruby of Heritage_. "We're not here for unrealistic love stories; we're here for hard cold cash and Pikachu!"

She stopped herself short however, cobalt eyes helplessly drawn to one of the titles. Her watermelon lipstick glistening as a silly grin spread across her lips. Then, a faint dusting of blush fogged her cheeks, one hand gently lying against her face, the other loosely holding the book she secretly craved. "Though," Jessie admitted with a soft giggle, "_The Door of the Auburn Consort_ does sound rather alluring-"

Lean fingers tempted to skim through the enticing novel surprisingly plopped the book right back down, Jessie's eyes widening as if a spell suddenly cast her attention away.

James came up behind Jessie, his breath soft as he cooed to her in worry. "What's the matter, Jess? Jessie?"

But she didn't answer. All her regard ardently staring ahead. "Oh my stars..." she murmured, her feet beginning to delicately move across the dirt road.

From that mumble alone, a glance of befuddlement was exchanged between James and Meowth, who followed behind her, trying to wrap their heads around what object or thing was so startling for Jessie to gawk at. In a few more bedazzled steps to the side of the first table, there it was in all its glory. The masterpiece that stole Jessie's heart. Hands clamped in front of her, admiration and awe displayed through her shimmering eyes; different hues of blue blended together, all the more stupefied by the tall, lustrous, and somewhat sinister piece as it glowed drearily against the sun's rays.

"This finely constructed piece of art," Jessie started, almost holding back tears from her eyes. She sniffled, and then proceeded with a throw of her arms. "This... this is BEAUTIFUL!"

Jessie's extreme response led to her plastering her body against the structure, then wobbling before she tugged it to help regain its centering.

From Meowth's point of view on the ground, the piece Jessie's was marveling over was anything _but_ beautiful. A snort slipped soon after, a sarcastic tone in the works of forming. "Dat's da ting you tink is beautiful? Jessie, ya might wanna get your eyes- Oww! MEOWTH!"

He was caught off guard by the firm but careful stomp on the front paw by James, both adjuring the feline to be quiet not only not to blow their cover, but to also refrain from igniting the hypersensitive Prima Donna in their company.

Blissfully ignorant to their exchange, Jessie's fingers daintily traced the upper part of the piece, her tips playfully gliding across the service of the _multiples heads _plastered on top. "Would you look at this James!" she soon exclaimed, undeniably giddy. "An actual hand-carved and handsomely crafted arbok coat-rack! Oh, I would die to have this up in my living room! Who knew the twerp's mom had such good taste!"

Perplexity had quickly transformed into aversion.

The now revealed coat-rack wasn't beautiful to James. The first word that came to mind was just plain frightening. Nothing comparable to the work of a breathtaking oil based painted scenery or the sparkling of fine hand painted china. But James was smart enough not to share his disagreeable opinion with his explosive friend, seeing she had an obvious affection for the snake pokémon. And it wasn't as if James couldn't appreciate an arbok for the creature it was. He actually liked the slithery animal, though the way that piece was so hauntingly made as if the eyes were looking into his soul, knowing all his deepest darkest secrets as if to use them against him...

James was left unnerved.

He sucked in a steady breath however, approaching his partner cautiously to bring her back down to earth. "Jessie first of all, we don't have any money to spend on luxury items, secondly we don't _have_ any coats to perform its basic function, and thirdly, you don't have a living room. You don't even have a shoe-box to call your own!" he reminded, his voice growing firmer.

"Let me at least dream, James!" wailed Jessie, throwing her head back against the coat-rack, her gaze softening once more. "It's a work of art and deserves admiration. I wonder how much it is..."

"But Jessie, what about what you just said?" James intervened, praying she wouldn't find the price tag. "_The plan_? We can't get sidetracked-"

"Um, excuse me? I don't mean to pry, but are you two by any chance looking for a crib? I've got one in excellent condition."

Stiff, the Team Rocket agents became like statues, heads slowly gleaming over their shoulders to discover the owner of the pleasant voice. Right before them was the twerp's momma herself, smiling brightly at them with a generous hand gesturing to the crib right beside her.

_Oh, no. _

TO BE CONTINUED...


	5. Web of Lies

**Author's Note: **Hello my lovely readers! Here is another addition in August as promised. This is the longest chapter so far for this story. Be prepared for some laughs and outwardly ridiculous antics from all. It took me **A LOT** of time and effort to construct this chapter and its happenings, so I hope my hard work has paid off. I also hope you all enjoy this new addition, especially you my wonderful beta reader. :D You have been more than helpful to me with every edit, and so I hope that I have given you another deliciously troublesome and humor-filled chapter to splurge on at your request! ;p

Only one chapter left after this. I plan to have the last chapter posted this month for you guys. If not, in September, but August is my goal. :)

Furthermore, to answer Guest: Heather's question, you guys will definitely get to indulge in the upcoming dinner at the Senior Ketchum's house with our lovable trio! XD It will be a separate short story similar to this one, and will most likely consist of three to four chapters. My beta reader has been jokingly holding me accountable to do it after I told her a while ago that I had it in mind... so I'm committing to it now! I'm not sure when I will post it, but I'll get to work laying out the plot line. I am very excited to tackle it when I have the chance. :)

**DISCLAIMER:** _Pokémon_ belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. My oc's and the creation of the sale's mayhem respectfully belong to me. ;D

* * *

**Junk of the Heart**

**Chapter 5**

_Web of Lies_

This wasn't happening. This_ couldn't_ be happening.

Just in the beginning of their devious plan to snatch bountiful loads of cash and the ever so slippery electric yellow rodent they dreamt about through sleepless nights, Jessie and her teammates were already calling attention. By her._ Her _with the ever so innocent and unsuspecting eyes. The twerp's mom, meaning the_ twerp_ would come around soon, meaning he_ might_ catch onto their disguises, meaning they'd have to go to _great lengths_ to keep up with their shenanigans to slip away with desired goods in tow.

Blindsided. Completely blindsided.

Gulping, Jessie was the first to croak. "Uh, well we-"

"Uh, yes! Yes we are definitely interested!"

James's sudden bombastic claim of certainty led to Jessie going pale, her ghostly complexion showing itself to her partner with a swivel of her head. What was he thinking? Was he trying to add to their already_ overflowing_ debt?! Besides that, what if the twerp's mother caught onto their scheme? Possibly see through their disguises or voices? Neither one of the agents found the young woman to be especially swift, but still, they didn't want to underestimate her intelligence, not with her son lurking ever so close by.

"Really?" Delia said, her infectious smile blooming. "I can assure you the supports are still stable, and it's only selling for around seventy dollars. It was my son's and well, he's certainly grown out of it now!" she concluded with a chuckle.

Jessie shot a sharp blue eye at the woman's son and recoiled. _Certainly grown out of it indeed._

In return, the grunts chortled back, nervously of course, and with a grip on James's arm, Jessie replied for them. "That sounds like a real steal! Perhaps you could put it on hold for us 'til we're done shopping?"

A jovial nod proceeded. "Oh, of course! Just take your time, and it'll be waiting right here for you."

Relief exhaled from Jessie's lungs. Thank goodness the twerp's sweet mother took the bait, her hardly suspecting eyes beaming so brightly at them. The only problem now being, they'd have to fork over a good chunk of their pathetic salary to Delia, losing money before even making any profit off of the town's own hard work of selling meaningless junk.

Thinking fast, Jessie tugged on her partner's arm to move. "Wonderful, we'll be seeing you later then ma'am!"

Time wasn't even given for Delia to bid farewell for the time being, for Jessie's feet scrambled as she hauled James and a choking and turned upside down on his back Meowth, as she dragged them a couple of feet from the addled woman. Sliding against the dusty road, she jerked them to form a huddle, both males gasping and perturbed by her aggressive course of action.

"Look what you've gotten us into James!" she snapped in a loud whisper, her hand now clutching the collar of his shirt. "We can't afford that stupid crib and may I remind you we _don't_ _need_ one-"

"I know!" he shrieked, flinching out of fear from a shake of her grasp. Her mouth was close to him as he earned a faint streak of fog against his fake glasses. "But we have to play the part if we want our presence to seem convincing. You said that yourself! And she seemed persistent about it!"

"Yes but- we can only drag out buying the crib for so long," explained the female agent, loosening her grip of James's shirt. Finally, she was composing herself. "As you know we can't exactly afford the thing. All we have is leftover cash the boss gave us at Headquarters, and I don't want to lose it over something we don't need." Or more like, they _begged _to have less than a monthly salary to get by. Depressingly, the female agent shot her head down and sighed. "Oh, maybe disguising as a pregnant woman wasn't such a great idea after all."

Unless Jessie was a fortune teller, reckoning the chances of knowing there was going to be a crib at the sale was a pathetic guess at best. And James didn't believe this slip up to be their fault. _For once_. It was a minor... inconvenience. But they could work around it and still swipe Pikachu! Couldn't they? Delia did she'd keep it on hold for them, and for all she knew their "shopping spree" could extend for a long period of time, possibly until the final hour of perusing set in. That would give the criminals plenty of time to grab what seize their wants, achieve their goal, and run for the hills untouched. If they could make it through the next how many hours without letting their own foolish eagerness get the best of their last minute tactic. The more Jessie thought about it, their sanguine prospects were beginning to sound like a lost cause. Like everything else they got their hopes up about...

"Well it's too late to back out on having the baby now," reminded James, though once the words came out he reconsidered his thinking. "I mean the pillow that, err- well, we'll just have to stall for as long as we can," he decided. "Maybe Meowth could nab Pikachu for us while we look busy, then we can distract the twerp's momma."

"And the cash?" she retorted, a brow arched. "You know Meowth. He's bound to mess it up."

"I heard dat!" the cat hissed angrily from below. "I'm sittin' right here-"

"Mom, can I talk to you?"

In unison, three deep chills traveled down the thugs' spines. All raising their backs as they slowly wandered their focus back to Mrs. Ketchum's table of vintage and common goodies. Right before their eyes stood the black haired twerp wearing his precious league cap as predicted, pulling on the hem of Delia's shirt like a child who couldn't help but barge in at an inappropriate time. She seemed surprised by his intrusion and slightly curt for she was obviously in the midst of helping a trembling and mumbling old lady count out the money correctly before purchasing a fair share of doilies and handmade oven mitts.

"Ash I'm talking to a customer right now," Delia replied, trying to stay even while she assisted the old woman.

"But it will only take a second! _Pleease_? There's this really cool clock Tate's mom is selling and you know I need a new one since I broke my old one. And it's only five bucks."

"Okay, that's fine. But not now," the mother said with faint impatience. "I will be with you in a moment, until then continue helping Brock and Misty. I promise I will be with you shortly."

"But _Mom_-"

"No buts, young man."

His whiny begging severed heavily on Jessie's tolerance, her spine tingling with pricked annoyance at the twerp's presence. Posing as a pregnant woman not only foiled their plans with obstacles, but also made the woman see that mothering was a very overwhelming and in Jessie's eyes, degrading job. It could have been her already bristled nerves spiked with frustration speaking to her, but in that instance Jessie couldn't handle the buildup of tension within her, and the itchy pillow tickling at her stomach.

"Arrgh," she growled underneath her breath with a pull of her lower eyelids, "with the twerp whining his head off and you _insisting_ we buy the crib-"

"I wasn't insisting!" James desperately cut in.

"I swear I'm gonna-"

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Another interruption.

Jessie's mouth stayed open as her head gradually glanced over her shoulder. "Um, yes?" she blinked, her voice lightening significantly.

Before her stood a woman, though her appearance was much different than that of the naturally attractive Mrs. Ketchum. Notably dyed locks of various blonde tones were cut in a neck-length frumpy haircut with full bangs, her face covered in more makeup compared to that of Delia, and she was sporting what looked like a patterned sweater with tan pants. She was older than Delia, most likely in her mid to late thirties though she bore a similar cheery grin that everyone in Pallet wore.

Approaching the startled agents, the woman's voice flew with mild enthusiasm. "I couldn't help myself but notice you've got a little bun in the oven," she gestured warmly to Jessie's "developing infant". "My husband and I are selling a stroller and car-seat five tables down. Would you two be interested?"

This had to be joke.

First a crib and now a stroller _plus_ a car-seat? Was everyone in town conveniently calling it quits with the baby-making-routine and deciding to sell their spit-up ridden furniture for profit at the same time?

Scratching his chin, James stammered. "We uh-"

"For some clarification ma'am, this man isn't my husband."

_Isn't?_ Immediately, the blue haired man's eyes widened, his turn to shoot his partner a look. What was Jessie up to now? Was this another silly fabrication she managed to pull out of thin air? He didn't know how she did it, but for once he prayed whatever lie Jessie was conducting was at the least a believable one.

The stranger paused, surprised. "Oh. I apologize-"

"Oh, no, no. We get this all the time!" Jessie hurriedly assured, forcing a vibrant grin. "This is actually my uh- doula. Fabio."

_What?! _James cried, silently gob smacked_. Doulas are women!_

"Wow," the woman eventually said, appearing amazed as she placed her hands on her hips. "I had no idea men could be doulas."

_Neither did I!_

"I went to a donor you see," Jessie explained effortlessly, as if she somehow had this fib as a backup plan. "So I'm doing this all by myself. It's just so hard to find the right guy these days, and instead of waiting for something that might not come by, _I_ took it upon myself to make my own dream come true!"

By her words and tone alone, the woman seemed rather impressed with Jessie's supposed tenacity of achieving the gift of motherhood without a male partner. Gullible the woman was, for she was ignorantly gun-ho about the deception, her voice intensifying with vivacious gusto. "You know, I appreciate your modern look. A woman raising a child all on her own by choice, what a journey! Well you know as well as I do, that most married ones _still _do that. Ahaha!"

"Yes, hehe," Jessie replied, her giggles much weaker than that compared to the woman's. "They sure do." Outwardly, she more so wanted to cackle like the Wicked Witch of the West, humoring herself over those with such credulous natures. _Honestly, these kinds of women here are a bunch of saps. If this woman believes this tall tale, then she's bound to believe anything!_

"So how far along are you?"

The immediate question caused the female grunt to snap back into focus. "About seven months," she answered, proudly rubbing her protruding stomach.

"Wow, so your little one will be arriving soon! I remember when I was carrying my little Dylan," the woman reminisced as if Jessie and her "doula" honestly wished to indulge in her woes and joys of pregnancy. "He was always kickin' away! Thought he'd be a football player, but he's _really_ into baseball! Those dang Starmie games are always buzzing on our T.V.!-"

"Hey Beverly, are you coming?"

The cast of a shadow against the dirt road introduced another presence. A woman's figure the silhouette showed and as the person came into full view both Jessie and James were not the least bit surprised. Again, here was what looked like someone having dowdy fashion sense, her age approximately around the same range as the woman now known as Beverly, who the agents were currently speaking with. This individual was a tad taller with dirty-blonde hair, but must have shopped at the same department store for those ever so dull and conservative sweaters. The pair of bumbling lawbreakers nearly choked on their own snorts at the sight of such matching correlation of colors and fabrics.

Spinning on her heels, Beverly gave her a weak smile. "'Sorry, Truly. I'm in the midst of a sale's pitch actually."

"Oh, the car-seat?" the woman named Truly squealed as she came up beside her.

"And the stroller!" Beverly proclaimed with just as much zeal.

This couldn't be real. Could it? Now Jessie _really_ felt like she was not only stuck in a badly written children's book, but was also starring in a direct to T.V. movie. One that usually follows the demographic of lonely middle-aged women, who, while watching the obscene and highly unrealistic program, indulge in the many calories of mint-chocolate ice cream and new box of prepped tissues for when a teary romantic scene decided to rear its ugly and unwanted head. Her only hope within this nightmare was that the overly friendly women wouldn't call one of their other identical buddies over.

"So this is just great!" Truly soon exclaimed, motioning towards Jessie's gut. "Another mom in town. How exciting! How far along?-"

"She's seven months," Beverly answered ecstatically for her, as if she was having the "baby".

"That's incredible! So you're almost to the finish line!"

_Almost. _She had to keep telling herself that. Almost to finish line of getting Pikachu_ instead_ of a screaming baby.

"That's what my doula keeps telling me," Jessie replied, smiling through the obvious pain that was not from kicks or hurting ankles.

"So do you know the gender?" inquired Beverly.

"Actually- I'm having a little girl!" she answered, her declaration transforming into a soft giggle.

Jessie didn't take back her first impression and thoughts that pregnancy wasn't for, however... the idea of having a little to girl to hold, to teach, to dress, and give her more than just snowballs as a favorite snack and a real friend instead of that of luxurious magenta locks... that Jessie would provide abundantly to a miniature version of herself.

"Ooh, I always wanted a girl myself! Have you picked any names?" asked Truly excitedly.

"Well," the magenta haired woman started, placing a mindful hand on her cheek, "I've always liked the name Julieta or Jasmine, or even Justine-"

"Do you have any ultrasound photos?" she pushed again.

"Are you getting supplies for the baby's room today?" Beverly jumped in without giving Jessie a chance to even answer the first question. "Oh, I remember how much fun my husband and I had decorating our Maggie's room! Of course now she despises pink…"

Lips widened for words to form, only for it to fall out as an intelligible rasp, for Truly was already belting out more invasive questions to add to the quiz of Jessie's supposed decisions. "Say, are you going to have your baby at Viridian Hospital? Do you have Dr. Brinstein? Oh, he is just terrific!" she praised, waving a hand in the air. "Helped me with Jeremy when he was simply refusing to come out! I was nearly a week late!"

Jessie's eye twitched. "You're not kidding? _A whole week_?"

Complete aggravation was felt as she helplessly stood there, enduring the two mothers swarming around her with a hundred questions and less than intriguing or wanted stories of their own little journeys of pregnancy. If a barf-pan was in proximity Jessie would have taken full advantage of it, and allowed the hurls to commence. To her dismay, discovering a barf-pan at a sale would not only be downright revolting but also unlikely. Dare she say it, Jessie would prefer dealing with the twerp's sickeningly sweet mother and somehow, some way, escape the clutches of her neighborhood buddies.

Wandering anxious blue eyes glanced their way to James, prodding him with an elbow as a warily urgent cry for help broke out. "Fabio, why don't we tell that nice and _much saner_ and _much less invasive _lady that we'll pay for the crib now instead-"

"Are you talking about Delia?" Beverly nosed her way in, seeming to know who Jessie was referring to. "She's such a peach! Cute as a button, isn't she? Though I'm not sure if you should buy from her."

An addled frown swept across Jessie's face, keening in on Beverly movements and cautious eyes. She leaned in a short distance, her voice falling to a whisper and her overall demeanor changing within an instant flash. She was behaving like a notorious mean girl in high school, pursing her lips with narrowed eyes as she motioned towards the innocently smiling Delia, scrutinizing her very move.

"She's discreetly earned the reputation of being... the town tart," Beverly announced in an all so scandalous manner, earning a confirmed nod from her friend right away.

Jessie simply paused with a blank stare. She and James looked to each other in unison. Okay, now this_ had_ to be a joke.

"Her?" Jessie soon pointed in disbelief.

"Yes."

"That woman?"

"Yes."

"_That _woman who is_ nothing_ but kind and _sounds_ like a princess out of a fairy-tale book?"

"That's how she woos the men," the blonde haired woman expanded with a nod. "As a matter of fact, she flashed herself to that rich Ketchum boy when they were teenagers. That's probably the reason she's got that ring on her finger... that and how their son came to being."

Instantly, Truly caught on to the wicked twinkle in her eye and the facetiousness pouring so bluntly from her vocal cords, playfully slapping Beverly on the shoulder and gasped. "Bev, you instigator!" An outburst of roaring cackling transpired between the two, their voices fading gradually as they collected themselves.

"Speaking of which, what is Delia's husband's name again?" Truly openly asked. "I always seem to forget! Doesn't it start with a J? Like Jess or something?" she threw out, starting on another random tangent, this time involving the "rich Ketchum boy" in which neither agents knew little to nothing about.

"I think his name is Jamie," Beverly countered, but the uncertainty in her proclamation was evident.

"Maybe Jackson?" Truly suggested.

"No, now I remember! It's Jayden!" she said, the guessing indisputable as she wagged a finger. "Troublesome young man. Ran off to become a Pokémon Master. Silly, right? A grown man trying to fulfill an impossible dream, let alone one children strive to reach for!"

A Pokémon Master? Surprise, surprise! Honestly though as long as she never _ran _into dear daddy twerp (considering how relentless his_ son_ was to accord she and her crooked teammates with the same lesson as their punishment), Jessie could care less. After all, it seemed like most people nowadays young or old wished to pursue the untouchable title that entailed the complex understanding and overall impeccable handling of the creatures whose capabilities were far beyond anyone's imagination.

Sweat-dropping, Jessie struggled to not only respond but to join in on their incessant laughter. "Well I'm not one to judge-"

"Like we need more of him in town!" Beverly carried on. "Now everybody wants to be a trainer. Thank God the majority of them are under the age of fifteen! Hahaha!"

Uncomfortably, all the Team Rocket grunts, and even Meowth, could do was join in on the snickering meekly. Underneath all those preppy breaths and mundane clothes was a scrutinizing woman who was at the mercy of no one. If her self-conscious would allow her to disclose these feelings of sympathy, Jessie nearly felt sorry for Delia after witnessing what kind of audacious gossiping she had to endure. Never mind she was the twerp's mother or that her annoying voice rivaled that of a princess's, and on any other given day the female agent would brush it all off as nothing, appearing indifferent to it all. But now, she couldn't for some reason... Tricking Delia was one thing, but indulging in these ridiculous rumors even outsiders could source as false- Jessie supposed, despite Delia being the one of the two people who _willingly_ brought the twerp into the world, Jessie had no reason to harbor as severe disdain for the woman based upon her choice in men or the young age she bore her baby. But she _was_ beginning to judge these cackling broads whose faces were so forgettable she couldn't pick them out of a line if her life depended on it, without at least _hearing_ one of them let out a shrieking howl of chuckles first.

Adjusting her throat, Jessie snatched James by the arm again, and made a couple of steps back. "Could you just uh- excuse me for a sec?" she asked the women.

"Sure, dear! But don't go too far. We've still gotta make a deal on that stroller and car-seat!"

Oh and how she was_ so_ delighted to pretend to do that. Their fleeing from these women was faster paced, though done more cautiously as another huddle formation was created. The wheels in Jessie's head started to turn speedily and craftily, the pieces all coming together in this nightmarish of a mission.

"James, while I have those dolts distracted, take my wallet so you and Meowth can go nab from their two tables, and the twerp's mother's two boxes. And remember to switch the real money out with the _fake_ cash." The phony cash that they had spent on their Team Rocket credit card a day earlier, which only added to their already overflowing bills. But with how much they'd earn back from spending, Jessie was sure the boss wouldn't be_ too_ angry... Or at least mildly.

Without a chance to process the proposal, James's partner had already whipped out her large wallet and shoved it in his grasp. For a few seconds, James looked down at the item in his possession, eventually gazing back up with a worried retort. "But that's only four cash-boxes to raid through."

"I don't care at this rate!" huffed Jessie, the reminder of having to go "hangout" with those unbearable women pounding at the back of her head. "Just steal the money and grab Pikachu so we can get out of here!"

"But what if the twerp's mom asks if we're ready to purchase the crib?" the blue haired criminal disputed again.

"Then stall her with a hundred questions. And what those questions are, you figure out! I can't get away from these soccer moms so you'll have to go solo on this one! Now, go! Hurry!"

Pushy fingers and shooing words prompted James to gently tug on Meowth's leash and to abandon Jessie as ordered. From a glimpse, he observed her taking in a deep breath before spinning back around and forcing a gigantic smile upon her face. Neither of their jobs for this assignment were ideal, one dealing with two talkative and draining women, the other two having to figure out a plan to stealthily seize the goods without one of the _many_ people looking their way. Nevertheless, James and Meowth begrudgingly did as instructed and roamed towards the two tables. One as expected had a car-seat and stroller stationed on the ground at the end of the right hand side, and at both tables the assumed husbands were running the sales while their gabbing wives were out being the scandalmongers they were born to be.

Slowing up their steps, James casually strolled through the vicinity his eyes darting across the tabletops to spot the cash-boxes. He had nudged Meowth with his foot, silently motioning that their targets were stationed to the far left hand side of each table, earning a confirmed nod from the cat soon after. In that moment, James was about to kneel down and concoct a strategy with his feline friend, until a glimmer of a sparkling array of round objects stole his attention. Unintentionally, he jerked Meowth by the collar and dragged him to the middle of the first table.

"Ooo, what do we have here?" James mused out loud, his excitement growing. "Can it be? A ninety sixty-five _Dewgong-Cola_ bottle cap collection! What a find, this must cost a fortune! But who in their right mind would want to sell such a priceless assortment?"

"Clearly, someone_ in_ deir right mind," retorted Meowth from below. He couldn't see the display of prized bottle caps at his angle, but he was positive it wasn't anything more than those round lids placed strategically in a dull colored box with a foggy glass to peer through.

Hurt by the cat's sharp remark, James's eyebrows furrowed. "Well, I let Jessie gush over her hideous coat-rack. Let me at least savor my bottle caps!" he cried defensively.

"A measly collection of old rustin' bottle caps is just as bad as dat ugly coat-rack," Meowth rebutted with a shrug.

Not in James's point of view. Yes, his comrades in crime never could comprehend his love for caps that were made to seal sodas and beer. And the norm could vouch the same statement. But regardless of their size and tendency to be recycled, the bottle caps were special to James. After enduring their rants of self-pity and likes of meaningless junk to him, he had every right to treasure one thing without feeling ashamed or teased for.

Like a pouting child, James huffed and glanced away. "You're just bitter because of your costume-"

"Excuse me, sir?"

James stopped midway through his rant before the man behind the table thought he was talking to himself. The man must have been the husband of Beverly, for he was occupying the table with the baby supplies. His smile was relaxed and casual; however, his wardrobe wasn't much better than that of his flibbertigibbet wife. In the back of his mind, James prayed the man wasn't about to offer the unnecessary infant equipment to him, after seeing he and Jessie being cornered by his wife. Luckily to his impending doom, the blue haired man was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Are you interested in my bottle cap collection?" he asked, gesturing towards the compilation of gold and silver lids. "I'm selling it for a decent price. Much better than what you'd pay online."

James's grin bloomed with a fervent nod. "Why, yes I am!"

An arrangement was being made to purchase the cherished caps, Meowth shaking his head at dear Jimmy's compulsion. The money was meant to be used in case of an emergency, not for James to actually _buy_ something at a sale they were _purloining_ from. There wasn't a doubt in the feline's mind that Jessie would throw a fit the minute James showed her his new find with feverish animation, and so he decided to stay out of the soon to be brawl. That still didn't dismiss the fact that he and James needed to formulate a plan to grab the cash-box without the man noticing...

Unexpectedly, Meowth felt the yanking to his collar loosen, the leash and soon the wallet tumbling down in a dusty crash near his back feet. He jumped a little out of being startled, then looked up to find James momentarily motioning him to move. The cat made a face in return, but soon realized the man had gone underneath the tent behind the table, selecting a bag and tissue paper from the large assortment. Now they had a chance! Already, James had paid for the item meaning they could swipe back what he had "spent". It was a golden opportunity; one Meowth took advantage of as he dashed around the table and pathetically leaped to the top with the wallet settled in his mouth. With careful eyes James kept watch, and hastened Meowth to rob lickety-split. Paws fumbled, having difficulty opening the box until James intervened in a harsh whisper of frustration, ripping the drawer open for Meowth to sloppily shove all the dollar bills in. Then in a separate compartment of the wallet, the two just as hurriedly stuffed the counterfeit bills in the slots. Heavy streaks of perspiration glided down the back of their necks, Meowth hopping down in a mad skid as the man twirled back around with James's riches in tow.

James's fingers twitched from the thrill as the handles of the brown bag were placed unsuspectingly in his hands.

He and Meowth couldn't believe it. They had executed it without a hitch!

* * *

Everything was going accordingly.

Swiping the second table was easier than the one before, and Jessie was filling Pallet's gossiping women with thicker lies of her "pregnancy" every time. Engrossed in his snack and constant chatter with a friend, the man running the second stand irresponsibly left his own, opening up the ideal moment for the agents to swoop in without a single detection. James's innocently whistled as he meandered down the strip before turning abruptly and aiding Meowth in the raid. Once a good distance away, James sneakily counted the bills and soon he and Meowth glowed with fulfillment and elation. The total of the cash was an abundant amount, the estimation approximately one-hundred and sixty dollars between the two boxes. It wasn't nearly enough to pay back their entire debt, but a fair dent for Giovanni to be pleased of their initiative. That is, if neither Jessie nor James felt the urge to spend the money on wasteful luxury items. James already had his "priceless" bottle cap collection, tightly clenching the bag as he and Meowth skipped joyfully down the road. Now all they had to do was fool the twerp's mom and grab Pikachu... and as to how they'd execute that part of the plan- it was still in the works.

But not a troublesome enough obstacle to damper their high spirits.

"Can you believe we did it Meowth?" James gushed as they walked back towards Delia's table. "We stole from _two_ tables without anyone seeing!"

"Just keep your voice down, Jimmy," Meowth warned sharply. "We don't need ya to blow our cover with your glee of merriment!"

"I'm sorry," the blue haired man grinned sheepishly, "I just can't help myself! For once, things seem to be going our way."

The cat sighed, finding it difficult to argue. "Ya make a point. And I suppose we deserve most of da credit, considerin' Jess has hardly done anyting. Probably the reason tings are turnin' out so well."

As much as James silently agreed with the feline's statement, he bore a face of seriousness as they passed by the particular person they were currently speaking of. "Now don't talk too loud, or _she'll_ hear you," he cautioned, eyeing Jessie across the way.

What James thought first was Meowth being unconcerned of his heeding was not the case. He unintentionally missed the man's remark, his sensitive ears pricked at the sound of distress from behind. "Huh? What's dat?" the cat said, looming over his small shoulder, his sight muddled by the giant tutu blocking his vision.

Stopping, the man looked to his feline companion. "Hmm?"

With a single blink of his eye and twist of his neck, James immediately picked up the on the foreboding sound. A rise in male voices persisted, the criminals' fuzzy gazes capturing what appeared to be two men waving something in the air. _The_ two men who Meowth and James double-crossed earlier. Intrigued, they listened closely between the distance and the overall chatter of others around them.

"I can't believe this! Take a look at this Miles," one of the men motioned, handing his acquaintance a single dollar bill. "Tell me if my eyes are deceiving me, but don't these bills look off to you somehow?"

Taking it in his grasp, the man now identified as Miles raised the piece of currency up to his eyesight. Stretching his arms upward, he inspected the bill against shimmering rays of sun, his frown of perplexity deepening with squinting eyes. "That's strange. The texture kinda feels off and the color is darker than usual- what the? The ink's smearing!" he declared, baffled as a smudge of black blended into the creases of his fingers. Tightly, he clenched the flimsy bill closer to his eyes, discovering something stranger behind the smear. "And is that a symbol of a_ rocket_?"

The last word alone made the fur on the back of Meowth's neck stand-up, his hiss of heightened anxiety falling as if that word was a presage to their scheme's ultimate demise. "Dey're onto us!" shrieked the cat, rising on his hind legs as he tugged on James's pant-leg.

A yelp leaped from the man's throat, his shoulders raised with tension as his worries began to consume him as well. "Of course this had to happen to us! And just when everything was going so swimmingly too..." James softly whimpered, shaky eyes trailing to the side.

Yes, everything was going very smoothly compared to their usual attempts at their malicious hijinks. So close the trio was to snagging Pikachu and required loot to pay off their own senseless fault of wasting valuable money. On one hand, retrieving Jessie and taking off with what cash they acquired was better than nothing. But then again, after all the trouble the three had gone through just to get to this point...

A frustrated growl emerged from Meowth's throat, his stance stiffening as he grabbed for his friend's pant-leg again. "We gotten dis far too give up now, James!" reminded the feline, not ready to call it quits just get. "We gotta hurry before dey start speculatin'!"

"You're right, Meowth," James agreed swiftly. "I'll distract the twerp's mom and you grab the cash and Pikachu."

"Yeah, yeah. I've got it-" The waving of his paw abruptly froze in midair, his eyes wide as if his tongue spoke too fast before his mind could process. Finally blinking, the pokémon continued. "No wait. I don't got it! How am I gonna nab Pikachu?!" he cried in a frenzy, pulling on his furry cheeks.

A bite to the lip was made. "Err..."

Meowth's desperate howls for a solution weren't aiding in James's already intensifying nervousness. He was trying to develop a quick solid proposition to get them out of the jam they were currently in. Jessie was always good at these sorts of things... regardless if her proposals were loaded with rash ideas and overall imperfections, at least _she'd_ think of something. This kind of ultimate decision making wasn't James's forte, then again, when had he ever been given the chance to make the final call with his boisterous and headstrong partner always taking the lead?

Feeling the pain from the minor chomp down on his lower lip, James eased up and threw out the fastest idea he could dream up. "What if after you get the money, I'll convince the twerp's mom we're no longer interested, then I'll call out Weezing to use a smog attack so we can make our getaway with Pikachu and Jessie."

Tragically no glimmer of cooperation crossed Meowth's face. Instead, he simply frowned and cocked an eye. "Dere's just one problem, Jimmy. Da twerp and his friends will know it was us! Dat's practically our trademark next to da motto and da balloon!"

Aggravation succumbing to his patience, the man spat back. "We'll let's see you think of a better plan then!"

Suddenly, their bickering was brought to a halt, the calling of a presence brought about another man to the now group of three distraught men. The Team Rocket agents recognized the man immediately, his balding head and graying facial hair and _degrading_ voice indicated he was the eccentric and nauseating man with the gavel named Tom, who ran the town's meeting. The one who the grunts caught a glimpse of through the town hall window and heard him drone on _and_ _on_ about the regulations of this silly sale itself.

Frozen stiff their bodies were, until the perplexed and stupefied holler of "counterfeit" from Tom, propelled the perpetrators to kick it into gear.

"We'll just have to stick with the plan," James firmly decided without debate. "Now let's move!"

He dropped Meowth's leash again, watching the cat run back on all fours and take off towards Delia's tables. With a flap against the wind of the plastic tablecloth, the feline sneakily hid underneath the thin cover of the specific table Delia was running, prompting James to enter in and distract. And he did so with a faint whistle and tucking of his arms behind his back.

"Hello, again," he greeted with a meek grin as he approached the busily working woman.

Delia perked up from the cash register and smiled at him. "Hi. So you're ready to purchase the crib?" she assumed.

"Not quite," James replied, casually moseying closer to the crib. "I just had a few questions first before we uh- proceed. You see, my client, the woman I was with earlier? I'm her doula, and she's in the midst of possibly picking out a stroller and car-seat so she wanted me to assess the crib for her."

_Gotta keep the story straight,_ he reminded himself. Never mind that James would prefer the role of husband than a _doula_ simply because being her spouse sounded much more believable than taking on a role that is usually cast for_ women_ specifically. Not that he hadn't played a woman before... Thankfully for the agent's sake, he didn't get any peculiar looks or questions about his "occupation".

"Oh, sure that's perfectly fine," Delia kept on smiling warmly. "Ask away!"

Ask away indeed... what _would_ he exactly ask? James hated it when he'd put himself in pinches like these, especially without anyone there to aid him in his fumbling of words or wavering train of thought. Putting his thinking cap on, his green eyes strayed from Delia and to the crib with a hard stare. At last, _something_ reasonable and realistic came to his mind.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking... when was this crib originally purchased?"

"Eleven years ago. But it's only been used once and I've had it stored in our attic so it hasn't suffered any damage."

"I see..." Ponders about possible detriments to the condition of the furniture were out of the question now. But that didn't limit James completely, his swirling mind speedily at work as he began to distract like a bona fide Team Rocket again. That and... Meowth was starting to prowl to the cash-box.

"Do you know what wood this is?" he asked, trying not to look obviously drawn to the register. "Looks like beach-wood to me which isn't the highest caliber of building material." The comment was more of an assumption rather than a fact, enough though to lure Delia over to the crib and take a look at the boards herself.

And this seemed to trip the young mother up. "I- I couldn't say," she said, running a hand across the surface.

"How 'bout where you picked it up?" James threw back, seeing from behind Delia, two furry paws were inching their way up to the top of the table. "Or the manufacturer? Was it made here in Kanto or another region? Hoenn has been known for being one of the least reputable manufactures."

Again, another conjecture.

James could see the muscles in Delia's face begin to scrunch, her uncertainty to his inquires leaving her stumped. "I'm sorry, I don't know. My husband bought it for me as a baby shower gift. Maybe the Viridian Mall? And if I had to guess where it was made, probably here in Kanto most likely."

"Ah, I see. Well then um... Did your husband assemble it by any chance?" James continued to interrogate, nearly squealing at the sight of Meowth falling as he tore open the drawer to the cash-box in a violent jerk. By his slight raise of voice, Delia gave him a strange look, but hurriedly disappeared as James diverted her focus with a gentle tug on the crib's structure. "How sturdy do you find it to be? Are all the screws properly- screwed in? Did your husband follow an instruction manual?"

"Well we've never had a problem with it, so I assume all was put together correctly." Honestly, when the man said he had some questions, Delia didn't expect him to carry on as he was. He was most likely being overly doting of his "client's baby" and fulfilling his duties sufficiently as a proper doula would. Yet Delia still felt something was... off.

Ending his shaking of the crib, James's eyes lingered back to Meowth who was still in the process of shoving the money in Jessie's wallet. If only he would hurry it up! His concerns brewing, James feared the twerp's mother was catching onto his perpetual questioning and in one last effort he spat out a question he already knew the answer to thanks to the local gossiper Beverly.

"If you don't mind me asking, is your husband around? If he is, I would love to talk to him about the construction of this crib."

Like a flicker from day to night, Delia's frown stiffened. "No, he's not."

"Well, when do you think he'll be back?"

Was that supposed to be funny? Granted, the man had no clue of Jay's abrupt departure, causing Delia to remind herself that she dare not be too cynical in her response. It still stung nonetheless, the question that had been pounding endlessly in her heart and mind had now been innocently asked by another.

"Sir I can assure you, the crib is in fine condition," she instead said, deflecting on the mention of her husband. "You have my word. I wouldn't be selling it if it wasn't safe for a child."

That was a hard response to argue. As luck would have it, not much of a debate needed to be made for Meowth had already hopped down with the loot and onto the last table to rob... But James was still going to have to ask if the crib could remain on hold, and continue distracting. If anything, the grunt decided to inquire about any possible free blankets, bibs, or bottles that could be thrown into the already hefty purchase.

* * *

"We need to find the perpetrators of this counterfeit currency immediately! Do you gentlemen know who could be responsible for such an audacious crime? I can't even begin to imagine how someone got past you without you noticing!"

If only that part of the mystery was revealed to them in some fashion. No one had come forward bearing concerns of suspicious conduct, and business had been going fairly slow the last hour making the men assume they would have caught the burglar in the act... But they didn't. And so for their absentminded chatter and continual fetching of sodas from the cooler, their less than attentive eyes paid the price for the loss of profit.

"No I haven't seen anyone suspicious," Nolan answered Tom with lowered brows. He was Beverly's husband, the one left in charge as she was still busy gabbing away about nothing. And he was also the very one who sold his prized bottle cap collection to that very fervent of an admirer and_ nice_ man. Someone he would have never considered as a prime suspect.

"Yeah, no one seems to be fitting the description of any shady characters. I suppose we can ask around to see if anyone saw something we missed," Miles replied, his fingers resting between his chin as eyes wandered to the side. Like Nolan, he too was a husband of Pallet's other yenta, Truly, who had only bothered to check on him once before skedaddling back to her friend and the seemingly fascinating "pregnant" woman.

"Good thinking, Miles!" Tom praised, planting his coiled fist on his open palm. No miscreant was about to cockily walk away with one hundred and sixty dollars with him in charge! Not when he had been itching to at last update the town with a bright and inviting sign to attract welcoming and _hopefully_ tourists full of cash... Plus, he was the town coordinator and something as foul as a scandal of stolen money would not look good on his part. Tom was in a desperate fright to clear the air before word broke out of robbers, and he meant to solve the "case" by any means necessary.

As if he was born to take charge, the older man gestured in different directions. "Nolan you take the left wing, Miles you take the right wing, I'll go straight down the middle of the sale. We'll rondezvous underneath the big Oak tree in ten minutes."

Ten minutes.

The given time Meowth _now_ had to execute the last phase of the plan. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't overhear this latest development. Hunkered down underneath Delia's table with the wallet securely clenched in his mouth, he slid to the one Ash and his traveling companions were running. Setting the wallet aside and lifting the flap of the cloth timidly, the cat found what appeared to be Brock's feet by his recognizable tennis-shoes. The boy's words muffled, though it was clear he was talking to Misty and a customer. Obviously, stealing wasn't practical at the given time, nor had James made any kind of signal for he was still preoccupied with Delia. But there was Pikachu. Happily entertaining Togepi with silly faces and endless chatter of "chus", totally unaware of Meowth's presence.

_C'mon, Jimmy! Move da conversation along already!_

If only Meowth had the capability to communicate telepathically with James, than their plan would have been finished by now. Alas, he wasn't born with such psychic abilities, and had to patiently wait for the twerps to move away from the cash-box. However, as he stayed unseen through the plastic sheet, the manhunt for the robbers was going underway faster than he would have preferred. If Meowth _knew_ that is. Precisely ten minutes had ticked by on Tom's handy watch, placing himself underneath the large shady branches of the humongous oak tree which was planted off of the side of the road. Apparently though, his timeliness did nothing in motivating the other two men to follow his not so detailed instructions.

"What are you two doing?" Tom yelled across the way in befuddlement, once spotting the pair in another location. "I said meet under _the_ oak tree!"

_That_ oak tree? Exchanging addled expressions, Miles and Nolan misunderstood Tom's orders finding themselves stationed under a _different_ oak tree entirely. One that was diagonal to that of Tom's chosen tree across the dirt road.

"Well you didn't specify what tree it was," Nolan argued for his ignorance.

"We're practically in the middle of a forest, Tom," Miles countered. "There are so many oak trees out here. How were we supposed to know-"

"Oh, just get over here!"

The nettled command from Tom alerted both men to move, neither one of them in the mood to continue such a fruitless debate. Once approaching Tom, the three kept their voices low and calm, discussing all the developments they managed to uncover. All the men were wisely selective as to who to speak with, not wanting to have the sale break out into delirium or provoke the thief to make a break for it while he or she still could. Mainly, the men questioned those whose tables were closest to the ones blindly robbed from, as well as respectful individuals of the community who could be trusted. Though in being picky with asking around, not much helpful information had been provided. Only that of a tip Miles received from a fellow seller. It wasn't anything solid, but the person's claim was all they had to go off of, and by the individuals recollection there was a certain group who fit the description nearby... He hated to think negative of them, though they were new in town and he barely knew their names for that matter. So Miles figured approaching them was worth a shot.

As long as Tom didn't get too carried away.

"Are you sure about this, Miles?" Nolan double-checked, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"Yes," he nodded. "I trust her. She's been an upstanding and active member in the community. I would hate to think she'd lie. And no one else has provided us with a better hunch. Plus the description she gave seems to fit them. So I suppose we'll just have to go with it and see," the man concluded with a shrug. But then, he paused as if reconsidering something. "On the other hand our eyewitness can't exactly-"

"All right, then," Tom ultimately decided, his mannerism suggesting how much of hurry he was in to resolve the issue. Whatever was on Miles mind he dismissed, allowing Tom to proceed. "Now gentlemen, let's handle this calmly and smoothly as possible. We don't want any runners," he cautioned.

They already _had_ runners on their hands. Granted, the ones who needed to dash out of Pallet weren't the ones being pegged as crafty, selfish, and money-hungry thugs.

* * *

Stretching her arms straight above her head, Misty's fingers entwined as she released a sigh.

"I think we're finally gonna have a break," commented the redhead, letting her arms slap down against her upper thighs.

Brock nodded, scanning the surrounding the area as he savored a spring breeze. "Yeah, for us at least, the crowd's finally lifted up." He swore at least eight people had come by in a row, either admiring some of Delia's items or buying the bargain deals so fast Brock and Misty struggled to keep track of every purchased piece and given price.

Fortunately for their tiring minds and working hands, they were blessed with the return of their friend.

Catching glimpse of him, Brock nudged Misty. "Hey, looks like Ash is back."

His sudden announcement propelled Misty to glance about and eventually she spotted a pokémon league cap in a sea of hat-less heads. A small bag rested in his grasp, indicating Ash was able to successfully fetch the item he begged Delia to let him buy. Thankfully for her it didn't cost much, and once finishing the continual demand of one customer after another, Delia was more than willing to provide as with a few measly dollar bills.

As Ash drew closer to the table, Misty gave him a small smile. "You got your clock I see?" she observed, her head gesturing to the brown bag.

Ash looked down into the holder and grinned. "Yeah. I broke my voltorb one so I wanted to replace it," he explained, reminding himself of how his endless dreaming and excitement in getting his first pokémon led to the loss of his perfectly working clock. Glad the boy was to discover Tate's mother was selling a wide array of her son's unwanted pokémon merchandise, and after admiring the display from afar Ash had to take advantage of the opportunity.

Pulling the clock out from the bag to show his friends, Ash revealed its entire appearance and held it close for them to see. "This kangaskhan was too cool to pass up-"

"Young man, of all the kids here in Pallet I am ashamed to think you would be the one to commit such a heinous crime! Especially one against the town!"

Out of nowhere, Ash was startled and extremely bewildered by the sudden assault, his new clock nearly tumbling out of his hands. Meeting a wagging finger and narrowed gray brows near his face, the young trainer was confronted with a furious Tom accompanied by two men Ash recognized as fathers of neighborhood children he was acquainted with. They remained quiet behind Tom, their arms folded over their chests with faint peeved expressions.

With wide eyes of frightened puzzlement, Ash could only place his hands in front of him to ward off the vexed older man. "Whoa! What are you talking about, Tom?" he demanded in a shocked tone.

"This!"

Swiftly removing the contents from behind his back, Tom unveiled the supposed subject at hand up near Ash's eyesight. Then, the boy just paused. He was stumped by the vague proclamation.

"...Money?" he croaked, his neck sinking into his shoulders.

"This isn't genuine cash fine people work for, this is all fake! Fake money that replaced the stolen cash of nearly one hundred and sixty dollars!" Tom declared slapping the wad of bills with the back of his hand. "Now if this is some elaborate prank to paint bills from a game board to appear like authentic Kanto currency, I don't find it funny!"

"I don't think it's funny either! A-and I didn't do it!" sputtered Ash, taken aback by the news he was so rudely accosted with. Just as staggered as the men were by their findings, Ash saw a smear of ink running across Tom's finger tips hazily uncloaking what was obviously not printed Kanto currency.

"Well, we are led to believe this is the work of children," the older men charged, unmoved by the boy's cry of innocence. "We have an eye witness, Mrs. Abbot, who said she thought she saw a couple of kids snooping around these gentlemen's tables. And you three are not only running a table by _yourselves _and _unsupervised_, but you are _also_ the closest kids to the thieved stands. Now, maybe your outsider friends here are behind this scam."

Known for being a tad intense during town debates and overly passionate about anything involving the town that would _benefit_ him, Tom was very notorious for this kind of behavior. What Ash didn't expect however, was to be wrongly accused with a scant amount of proof to back up the man's outrageous claim. He wasn't even aware a robbery had taken place, let alone he was prime suspect number one!

"Hold on a sec!" Brock's intervention forced Ash to move back, his older friend stepping in front of him with an assertive chest sticking out. "You have no right to start pointing the finger at us, sir. We've been running this stand the entire time. We give you our word."

"And Mrs. Abbot is half-blind, Tom!" Ash reminded, his argumentative side beginning to show as he peered around Brock's shoulder. "She could have seen a grown-up and thought it was a kid! You did say she _thought_ she saw some kids-"

"Now don't you start throwing out wisecracks about the elderly," Tom scolded, as if it was warranted. "They are just as valuable to the community as any other citizen."

The boy made a face. "What does that have to do with anything? I promise, we didn't do it!"

But Tom was unconvinced. "Really?" he snorted. "Because I suspect you spent some of the money on that kooky gadget in your hands."

_Kooky gadget?_ Was he serious? Annoyance started to wear on Ash's thinning patience. He stood by Brock's side and vividly showed the apparently strange contraption as nothing more than a kangaskhan figurine with an obvious timer on the stomach. "First of all, it's just a clock. Second of all, it_ only_ cost me five bucks. And my mom _gave_ me the money! It was the _only_ time I've left this stand-"

"Oh this is worse than I thought! Delia stole the money!"

Did Tom have a few screws loose? All three of the trainers' mouths fell open in unison, unable to process the words that so boldly poured out without a single hint of hesitation. How could he declare something like that? Delia was the complete opposite of the nasty picture he was now painting her to be! Her actions and words had proven such through many accounts. Delia was known for being a kind and generous woman. The woman who went out of her way to share her beautifully rich in color and flavorful vegetables, when other's crops were suffering. She was the person who made blankets for expectant mothers just because. She was the person who willingly brought meals to those suffering from illness or couldn't cook for whatever pretense. She was the one who shared her tips for gardening whether that pertained to growing food or gorgeous flowers to enjoy all through the spring and summer. She helped run charity events, practically gave her homemade pies away at the fair without expecting a payment in return.

Delia never expected to receive favors for her efforts, and she certainly knew a thing or two about working honestly to reach her ultimate goals!

Absolutely flabbergasted and enraged, Ash was the first to lash out in defense. "What? No she didn't! It came out of my mom's wallet. The money she _earned_ working. My mom wouldn't steal! How could you even say that?"

"Well she is a single parent," Tom tried to reason, unsettled by the harsh glares he was receiving from the kids. "And people get desperate at times-"

"I can't believe you have the audacity to accuse Mrs. Ketchum! She's an upstanding woman!" Misty at last jumped in, utterly stunned by the less than considered allegations. Anyone could have committed the crime! And Delia being separated from her husband was hardly considered suspicious to even suggest in Misty's book.

Eyes were starting to dart their way between the increasing of volume and angered expressions, attention Tom didn't _want_ to attract but nonetheless did so by his rash claims. Noticing the peering of confused yet fascinated expressions, Miles hurriedly intervened and urged the town coordinator to rethink his assertions before spilling out more impulsive words.

"Wait, just hold on a sec!" he eased sternly, earning Tom's attention. "Remember Tom, Mrs. Abbot said she distinctly saw _some_ kids. Who's to say these kids were involved?"

"Never mind Mrs. Abbot _can't_ see..." grumbled Ash with clenched teeth as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Then perhaps Delia had the kids steal for her," Tom suggested as if it was a possible explanation.

Miles lowered his eyebrows. "That sounds a little far-fetched."

"I agree," Nolan spoke up, not liking the direction the conversation was going in. "I don't think Delia would do that. She's not that kind of person."

Besides that accusing kids of a crime was bad enough based on a rendered sightless witness, but to accuse someone in the neighborhood who wouldn't even have the tendency to stray off the moral and honest path? That was pretty daring in Nolan's eyes, and perhaps juvenile to assume so quickly. For the trainers' sake, _finally_ two others saw the light of logic and reason. Still bullheaded to see otherwise, Tom was yet again, dismissing Miles and Nolan's calm insistence of Delia's decency. Instead, he picked up on another absurd profess based heavily on belief rather than evident facts.

"Oh Nolan," he huffed, giving the man an all-knowing eye, "we_ all_ know you have a little crush on Delia."

Instantly, Ash's jaw dropped. "What? _Nolan_?" he shouted, looking to him in wide eyed shock with an accusatory point of a finger. "You like _my_ mom?!"

Caught completely off guard by the mordant remark, poor Nolan dashed his focus between a nodding Tom and an irate Ash. Where in the world did this come from?! Sure he liked Delia as a person, but never did he think of the pretty woman in a romantic sense. He was married_ with_ children, and while many of the men in town fancied Delia for her looks and kind nature, under no circumstances did he feel at all compelled to flirt with her or disclose such a scandal!

Flustered across the cheeks, Nolan tried to speak up. "Ash I don't-"

"And we know Beverly isn't exactly a picnic considering she's the town busybody," Tom dared to add on. "So I can't say I blame you."

Furrowed brows and deep frown claimed Nolan's face, snapping back in defense. "Hey, that's my wife you're talking about!-"

"Whoa, guys! Whoa!" Miles luckily intervened, pushing himself between a confrontational Nolan and an ever so innocently glancing about Tom. He ignored such behavior from the man they now regretted asking assistance for, and _calmly_ reminded them what they were originally over here for. "I think we should get back on topic," he said.

Also secretly wanting to move past the subject from the glower he was receiving, Tom agreed full heartedly. "That's right Miles." Then, he turned his attention to the trainers. "Turn out your pockets."

"_What_?" Ash spat, comprehending the demand yet stunned by the preposterous request.

"You heard me, young man. As chairman of the town board, I order you to turn out your pockets. If you're innocent then you shouldn't be afraid to do so, now should you?"

That was beside the point! Innocent he was Ash still didn't feel pressured to make his statement valid for Tom's mistrusting eyes and aggravating insistence. He couldn't begin to understand how this all came about! Nor did he care if Tom was just being extra cautious, and wanted to resolve the problem before word broke out of his failed "security" system. The failure was his own fault, and Ash did nothing in stirring any sort of trouble up.

"This is stupid!" blurted the boy again, his hands held up in the air. "We didn't steal the money!"

Others were beginning to think the same thing. Not that Miles or Nolan believed them to be the suspects immediately, but between Mrs. Abbot's claim, Tom's overbearing calls for action, and that they had no other leads to go off of... everything was turning into a nightmare of theatrical proportions.

"Tom, really," Miles started coolly, but with firmness in his posture and voice. "I know you're upset and you want the money back where it belongs, but let's think about this. If they're that adamant, then I doubt they did it. Besides, there are a lot of kids here. It could have been anyone! Maybe someone not even from town-"

"That's why I suspected these friends of Ash's," he rebutted, gesturing harshly to the kids. "They're not from around here, but he's the one who knows all the ins and outs about the town. He could have told them-"

"We've only been here for about two months," Brock elucidated, his irritation burning the back of his throat.

"Plenty of time to figure out all of our customs."

Another word out of him and Brock was about to blow a gasket, and he wasn't even as infuriated as the explosive combo Ash and Misty would voluntarily set off. This whole debate was utter nonsense, and Brock didn't feel he or anyone else should be subject to the lunacy of what might happen to Tom's precious reputation. So, the aspiring breeder took the matter into his own hands.

"Look sir, pardon me for being rude, but Misty, Ash and I have been monitoring and getting money from this table and putting it in this cash-box all day," Brock affirmed with forthright assurance. From there, he went to greater lengths to back up their integrity. An action Ash didn't find to be necessary, but as this rate couldn't blame his older friend for going to the trouble of grabbing the cash-box. Picking it up, he held the box close for the grown men to see, pulling the drawers out with confidence and definite gesture to the contents inside.

"_See_?- Huh?!"

Nothing could prepare Brock for what was _now_ inside. Gathering around him, Misty and Ash peered over each of his sides, their expressions transforming and level of volume rising in an outbreak of baffled astonishment

Misty stammered was the first to stammer, swallowing as she brushed a finger along the crash. Ink was left along her tips. "T-the m-money i-is-"

"Ah hah!" Tom exclaimed victorious, not the least bit surprised. "Just as I suspected!"

Now it was Brock's turn to blurt out. "What?! How does that makes us guilty? We were victims too!"

Victims of crime they were also blind of. How on earth could this have happened? The questioned confounded them all. The entire time, neither Misty nor Brock left the cash-box alone. Only during the not so riveting bickering with Tom did their eyes stray away from the valuable holding of money. Someone must have stealthily stolen the genuine bills when no one was looking. That was the only possibility! Someone small and quick, who couldn't possibly be detected between the yelling and profuse defensive comebacks. After all, everyone was far too preoccupied pointing the finger and having a contest on who could yell their assertions the loudest.

Somehow having an answer ready (whether lame or not), Tom managed to foul up their statements. "You just put this fake money here so you could look innocent," he said with certainty.

"That's crazy!" Ash argued.

"It's not crazy! It's insane!" Misty rebutted, redefining the situation. "How many times do we have to tell you? We're innocent!"

"I think we've gathered enough evidence to proceed." Continuing to disregard the severe scowls, heated cheeks, and lashing of tongues, Tom glanced to the men to hopefully resolve the heinous misdeed in their midst. "Nolan, why don't you fetch Delia since you have such a fondness for her," he suggested.

"I don't!-"

"Stay away from my mom, Nolan!" Ash swiftly warned, wanting to pick a bone with him later. Then out of boiling frustration and rage he tossed his tightly bound fists in the air with a growl. "Arrgh, this is crap! I'll get her myself!"

"You watch your language now, young man!"

Ash was smart enough to do so on his own without the annoying reminder. Though he would have liked to use a few more choice words at Tom, if he knew he could get away with it. Stomping off in a flustered huff to retrieve his mom, Ash wasn't the only one feeling immensely piqued by the degrading bossy voice.

"Tom, just- just shut up," Nolan grumbled, waving a hand before caressing his temple out of exhaustion. The last thing he needed was for Tom's behavior to reflect upon how the majority of the town acted- which was _not_ the case.

Puffing out his chest, Tom scoffed. "Well I never! As for you Miles, please report to Officer Jenny that there has been an episode of thievery and that we caught the people responsible."

"Tom, we don't have the Office Jenny from Viridian City here," he replied slowly. The last time Miles checked, he didn't spot a woman in a blue police uniform scouting the area, and if he or Tom did, shouldn't one of them have just gone to her in the first place instead of entertain the idea of Tom playing Superman to the citizens of Pallet?

Releasing one last moan, Tom rolled his eyes and snarled. "Oh for Pete's sake! This is what I feared! I specifically asked for Officer Jenny to be here for this event for this _very_ reason!"

* * *

If one of the people who planned this event remembered to request Officer Jenny to be present, the issue of a missing person's case could be solved as well.

Or one should say a missing _pokémon's_ case.

Back at Delia's table of quieter happenings, a small cluster of possible customers swarmed the area separating the two tables. She had thought she heard a mixture of hollers and cries, one in particular sounded very similar to when her son would become extremely agitated... Her thoughts were cut short however, noticing an absent presence at ground level as she was busy talking to James.

Puzzled, Delia arched an eyebrow. "Say, where did your meowth go?"

James blinked. "Hmm?"

"Your meowth. The kitty you had with you earlier?"

So she was more observant than Jessie and he pegged her for! Wanting to squeal out of panic, James resisted the reflex and instead released a sheepish smile. "Oh, yes!" he noted, glancing down at his feet. "Hi- I mean _her_. She uh..." He rubbed the back of his head out of anxiety, trying to think of some way to respond. He couldn't say he- no _she_\- was with Jessie. At the angle Delia was standing she could perhaps see Jessie for herself, and realize James was lying. And he certainly didn't want to look about, appearing all the more guilty.

Gulping, his mind came up with a pathetic attempt at a lie. "...She ran away."

A gasp fell from Delia's mouth. "Oh, dear! You should probably be looking for her then."

"She does this often-" he tried to reassure, only earning a stranger look in return. Speedily, James nodded in agreement. "But yes, I will go look for her! Good idea! Hehe..."

Looking for "her" would be fruitless, due to the fact that James could see Meowth peaking around the far corner of the table. He had the wallet placed back in his mouth, his nodding staggering thanks to the heaviness of cash he was carrying. To James's relief, Meowth was able to grab the money from both registers, informing him to execute his part of the scheme. To use Weezing and through the smog slyly swipe the biggest and_ living_ prize they originally came for. However, James had now placed himself in another unplanned predicament.

Unexpectedly, Delia made an offer. "I don't mind helping you find her-"

"Oh no, ma'am!" James cut her off, politely declining her services. "I've given you enough trouble-"

"MOM!"

Nearly making James's heart leap out of his chest, Ash's maddened presence was suddenly bestowed upon him. To ease his pounding heart and racing fears, the glare that was being cast upon Ash's face was not directed at him, but at the boy's mother instead.

Beyond confused and frightened by her son's roar and his overall bold intrusion, Delia swept her gaze to him. "What's the matter Ash?" she asked excitedly.

"Tom has lost his marbles!"

The woman frowned. "Well, that's nothing new."

"No, Mom it's serious!" Ash insisted passionately, pointing back at the unfolding scene. "He's accusing Misty, Brock, and I of stealing money! And he thinks you're the one behind it!"

Delia's pupils dilated with a shrill gasp. "What?!" she shrieked in return.

Clearly, that was not the news Delia would have liked to receive. There had been an act of stealing going on during the sale? And somehow, her son and his friends were being charged with the wrongdoing under Tom's watch? And _she_ too? No words could describe how beyond astonished Delia was, her expression and draining of color solely showing what harm the shock had done to her system. It made no sense! Here she was, minding her own business, occasionally peeping over at the kids to make sure all was well, multitasking the requirement to help waiting buyers, and without a single indicator, she was now being prosecuted for an incident she had no clue was occurring? Where was the justice in that?!

Shaking her head at the unfathomable thought, Delia made her way past James. "I- I can't believe this! Excuse me, sir. I'm so sorry-"

"Oh, not at all!" he reassured, his feet moving back. "Take your time..."

James dashed away once Delia and Ash had their backs turned to him, sliding underneath the tablecloth to join an impatient Meowth. At first, their messing up of their misconduct was thought to be a downfall on their part. While actually, it turned out to be a benefit in their favor for the twerps were ironically carrying the blame. It was a benefit Team Rocket was rarely blessed with, and if they did not accomplish their grand finale soon, their chance to make their dreams come true could go south fast.

So, James and Meowth carefully took action.

In a fuss, Delia approached Tom trying to keep herself even in front of the children and for her own sanity. She didn't need to make a scene or make a wrong impression of herself, especially with Miles and Nolan there- though it did make Delia wonder- were they on this inane indictment too?

Dissolving the thought as to not lose her temper, Delia proceeded with a calm but stern voice. "Tom, what seems to be the trouble that you'd go as far as to say_ I_ was involved in thievery?" she questioned sharply, folding her arms over her chest.

He snubbed her with a huff. "I'd like you to tell me."

"What are you insinuating?"

"Your son and his hooligan friends stole money out of Nolan and Miles's cash registers, stole money out of _their own_ register, replaced all of them with this fake currency, and I think you put them up to the task."

"No we _didn't_!" Ash growled, overpowering the volume of Tom's voice.

"We swear, we didn't! We haven't left this table all day!" cried Misty in defense.

"And the money in our cash-box disappeared just when these guys approached us!" Brock chimed in with firmness.

"Mom, you know I wouldn't do that!-"

"I KNOW!"

Delia's authoritative yell silenced the rest, her jumbled mind collecting its wits before she went flying off the handle. Fathoming how this came to be was near impossible, and the throbbing pain she was starting to feel in her forehead was enough of a sign. Not for a second did Delia believe Ash and his friends were behind this scam. True, children could be deceitful and carelessly commit acts they'd regret later in life. But _stealing_ money at a sale? For the short time Delia knew them, that didn't sound like Misty and Brock. And it surely didn't sound like her Ash. Yes, her son had fibbed to her in the past. Mostly out of avoiding a conversation or something trivial that would be resolved with a hug and a promise not to do it again. The only form of thievery Ash ever committed in the past was secretly snagging cookies out of the cookie-jar before at that, he'd tend to fess up before either of his parents found any evidence and interrogated him regarding the spoiling of a good healthy meal.

Plus, they all had been working so incredibly hard the last few hours, not one complaint from any of them. All three did as they were instructed and were more than happy to step up to the plate with the demanding tasks at hand. To Delia, it was unquestionably nefarious for Tom to place the blame on three kids who_ volunteered_ their services. Then again, it was rather peculiar money had been stolen and replaced out of their own cash-box... No. No way. After all, Brock did say it was there up until Tom came storming into their vicinity and she found it difficult to believe he would lie. Too trusting some might have called her, but Delia simply struggled with the idea of them robbing from her right underneath her nose. They weren't like that.

No.

And as for Delia herself... that was another extraordinary mystery altogether. How could Tom think a grown, respected, gentle, and generous woman such as herself be the mastermind behind a gutsy act of theft? Had Tom forgotten about all the charitable things Delia had done for others as well as the town in general? Had it slipped his mind in that the woman went out of her way to make others comfortable, to help struggling individuals when times were tough? Or how about all those baked goods she brought to the sale, all the desserts Tom had requested himself by a supposedly popular vote? Not to mention, all her time and devotion at her mother's beautiful inn? It was pointless to defend herself, for Delia knew she was not part of the guilty party, nor was she going to consider the children were guilty either. But still... how could he presume such awful things about her?

She wasn't in denial of the potential mistakes kids could make, but this was too far out of reality's reach to be true! For all of them!

Inhaling a deep breath, Delia centered herself and flashed a reassuring eye at her frustrated son. "I know," she said in a softer voice, before diverting her peeved eyes at the man she was furious with. "This is absolutely uncalled for, Tom. I'm not going to stand here and be accused of something I didn't do let alone entertain this ludicrous assumption! Obviously, we have been victims too, and as to who is doing this, I don't know. I haven't seen anything suspicious. But _my_ kids and_ I_ wouldn't steal, and how dare you for even accusing such!"

By Delia's subtly stark glower and demanding voice for respect, Tom could _at last see_ he was in a pickle. And by his own doing to top it all off. Without thought and wanting to rectify the matter hastily, he had angered one quiet but spirited woman_ and_ mother, vividly seeing she was someone who wasn't about to play victim to anyone's garbage. Okay... so maybe he did jump the gun on this one. But regardless of anyone's pristine track record, he had to take action for the better of the town! Oh, who was he kidding? Nolan wasn't backing him up and neither was Miles. All they did was stand there bearing looks of: "I told you so", never mind they had hardly done a thing to clean up the mess... Tom made himself out to look not only witless, but insensitive. So, not wanting to look like a fool Tom brushed aside his stupidity and tried to meekly justify his course of action... by placing the blame on someone else.

"Well, Mrs. Abbot claims she saw some kids-"

"Mrs. Abbot is half-blind!" Delia interrupted, not wanting to hear any excuses. Plus, the old woman_ really _was half-blind.

"Delia, please, lower your voice. You're starting to sound a tad hysterical."

The young mother made a face at the man and placed her hands on her hips. "I'm hysterical? You're the one who marched right over here with _no_ evidence and blamed us for something we didn't even do! I'll have you know I've been talking with a customer for the last twenty minutes about the crib I'm selling."

Leaning to the side, Tom glanced over the woman's thin shoulder and found no presence of the sort. Just the crib and all its lonesome. Focusing back on her, he spurned her tale of innocence with a cocky thick brow. "Really? Because I don't see anyone Delia. Now unless he's imaginary and only _you_ can see him-"

"H-he was right there!" she stuttered, starting to sound overwrought as she pointed back to where she originally stood. "He had glasses, a plaid shirt button up shirt, and he was a doula!" she made sure to mention. "But he lost his meowth and-"

"That is preposterous!" Tom snorted, finding her story to be complete baloney... well, at least a small part of it. "I've never heard of a male doula-"

"WAIT!" Ash boomed, successfully drowning out Tom's random tangent. Once earning everyone's attention, he sucked in a deep breath and looked to his mother in foreboding worry. Something about what Delia said was bothering him greatly, as if her words heralded a wicked reoccurring undertaking was about to take place. Steadily, the boy swallowed. "Mom- Did you say he had a _meowth_?"

As if on cue, an abrupt blast of a thick greenish-black gas engulfed the area, impairing the useful mechanism of seeing and breathing. Hands were hurriedly placed over mouths for protection, coughing and gagging ensuing as they tried to get clean air to their lungs. Shrieks, hollers, and cries of adults and children exploded down the road, all taken aback by the intrusive and alarming attack flooding their natural senses of protection.

Instantly with a hunched back, Brock raised his head and narrowed his brows. He understood what Ash was getting at. "I think we know who the thieves are!" he proclaimed, through a muffled exclaim, knowing his companions would pick up on his haunting declaration.

As for a bitter Tom, he choked on a cough in defeat. "How convenient!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

* * *

**A/N Cont.:** Now after all that trouble, Team Rocket's presence has finally been detected! What scuffle will come about? Are the kids and Delia's names rightfully cleared now? Will the money be returned? What about Pikachu and Togepi? Will Tom suck up enough pride and be a man and apologize? And will _someone_ recommend for Mrs. Abbot to get a new prescription for her glasses? XDD You'll have to wait and find out! So please stay tuned for the conclusion!

And of course, thanks a bunch to all who took the time out of their day to read this new chapter. Everyone who has left encouraging comments throughout this story have made it all the more worthwhile to write. I truly hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and thank you for your patience.


	6. Shimmer of an Off Chance

**Author's Note:** Yes. This is it! The **FINAL** chapter! I would just like to give thanks to all who have reviewed once or several times. Spruceton Spook, Guest: Heather, Guest: Marie, Butterbeer8, jg13145, and KaliAnn. I appreciate everyone's enthusiasm for this short tale, and all the time you took to write your awesome reviews. And thank you to all who have taken the time to simply read this story. Your continuous support is tremendously appreciated, and I'm so happy to hear you guys have enjoyed the story thus far. :)

Now, please read and relish our final installment of _Junk of the Heart_! I read it over MULTIPLE times. So hopefully, it is free of errors!

**Update:** Thank you Guest: Heather for pointing out that one minor issue for consistency purposes within this chapter. I went back and fixed it, so there should be no further confusion. Sorry about that! ^^;

**DISLCAIMER:** _Pokémon_ belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. My oc's belong to me.

* * *

**Junk of the Heart**

**Chapter 6**

_Shimmer of an Off Chance_

The pungent smog was still abundant in the air.

Ash's eyes were severely blinded, though he fought against the hazy gas anyway in an attempt to locate the thieves he knew all too well. How could they have not seen this coming? This last week had been rather quiet and pleasant. Perhaps _too _quiet. A clear indicator Team Rocket would strike when they were most vulnerable, when all was but too tranquil to relish and let worries blow in the wind. Farcical the oafish trio's plans tended to be, this little charade of pointing the guilty finger at he and the ones he cared about was less than what Ash would define as the villains' usual acts of silliness.

Eventually between mingled shouts and screams, the distant cry of a shrill "pi pikachu" alerted Ash's gaze to the left then straight on, discovering three foggy silhouettes dashing down the road.

"Pikachu?" he gaped. Then his adrenaline kicked in, glancing to his gagging friends. "We've gotta stop 'em! C'mon guys!"

With a fluid fuzzy hand motion, Brock followed Ash as ordered while Misty went and in a panic, searched for Togepi with frantic hands. Grappling the playpen she discovered her little angel had been left behind, thankful Team Rocket didn't see the potential in the creature as she did.

"Oh Togepi, thank God you're all right!" she said, cuddling the cooing pokémon close to her chest. "Is Pikachu with you?" One arm balancing the frightened Togepi, Misty felt across the bottom surface of the playpen, and found nothing furry or warm of the sort that would corroborate her hopes of the electric rodent in her midst. Becoming just as alarmed as Ash over the situation, Misty rose up on her crouched knees and tried to identify her companions' shapes in the cloudy fog ahead.

Still left in the dust, unaware of where her son took off, stood a hysterical Delia. Her eyes darted all over the place, a hand reaching out as she called repeatedly for him to come back. "Ash, wait! Ash! ASH!"

She choked on another cough unfortunately, her focus impaired all the more between every reflex to gag and scurrying figures passing her by. She had an eerie feeling that those horrible pokémon snatchers who barged in on her son's journey had now gone to greater heights as to torment them here at the town's own sale. It would explain Ash's sudden fear for his rodent's safety and the mention of the meowth, and Delia now felt like giving herself a good kick in the head for not suspecting that couple. The couple she so eagerly believed would by that precious crib...

Unexpectedly, Delia felt fingers clamp down on her delicate shoulder. However, it was not the hand of her son.

"Where are the kids?"

It was Leah, who sounded a tad winded from all the running she had done to find her daughter.

Biting back a surge of worry, Delia tried to remain calm as she explained the strange intrusion to her mom. "Ash took off with them. Mom, he thinks those terrible people who tried to steal Dad's livestock are behind this!"

A gasp fell from Leah's mouth instantly, the women silently agreeing to charge forward through the crowd and find that headstrong little boy who they so desperately wanted to protect. Though in turn, that very boy was doing nothing more than shielding the town and his stolen Pikachu. Whether Ash was ignoring his mother's flustered cries or simply could not hear over the catastrophic harmony of voices was unclear. Nonetheless, nothing would stop Ash in finding and bringing Pikachu back _safely _where he belonged. Pushing past people until he found himself in a clearer spot of the smog, Ash's hand dove directly for his pokebelt for needed assistance.

"Pidgeotto I choose you!" he called out, tossing the spinning 'ball high in the air.

A brilliant streak of light emerged from the split pokeball, and in no time at all came out his loyal bird. A sharp cry he released as his wings batted speedily against the air, taking note of the gloomy trouble engulfing the area and now his vision.

"Pidgeotto," Ash started, "get rid of this smog with your gust attack!"

On command wings flapped at a faster rate, the continual steady beating whipping away the smog from the innocent civilians' eyes. The air was becoming naturally unblemished, confused expressions bouncing from side to side as the town tried to distinguish the perpetrator behind the sudden alarm. Their mindless scouting wasn't needed by this time, for Ash swiftly discovered the dastardly trio he suspected running away from the scene with the floating creature that had released the poisonous fumes.

"Hey!" he hollered boldly into the distance. "Where do you think you're going with my Pikachu and all that cash Team Rocket?!"

At the sound of his outrage, the bumbling agents skidded across the dirt road, their feet slamming on the breaks in an abrupt halt.

_Busted. _

"It's Team Rocket?" someone in the crowd shouted out in disbelief.

"No way!" another person exclaimed.

"The pregnant lady's a thief?!" one more added.

Evidently, _everyone _was duped.

Voices of puzzlement and distress blended together in side chatter, all concocting their own reasoning behind the thugs' appearances. Thanks to the slowing down of the roaming mass and their overall hollers of delirium, Brock and Misty successfully caught up with Ash once again. All three trainers now stood before the guilty party. Jessie, James, and Meowth kept their backs turned to the _many _pairs of glaring eyes they unintentionally attracted, seeing there was no way out. Besides following through with their usual tactic. Chortles fell from their lips with arched backs, their voices steadily growing as they at last spoke.

"It seems our identities have been revealed," the woman darkly smirked, eyes barely darting to her partner for his cue.

"Then I suppose a proper introduction is in need," the man concluded just as wickedly.

In a flash, the pair twirled around in unison, both effervescently stripping off their disguises to unveil their true identities. Two sets of white uniforms with profound red R's on their chests glistened against the shining rays above, the effect only adding to the agents' dramatic flair as they each struck their own signature pose. James proudly holding the profusely enlarged wallet in his tight clench while Jessie squeezed a squirming Pikachu by the sides with some apparent shock-proof gloves she brought along.

"Prepare for trouble we tricked you with our little pregnancy scheme!" Jessie sang in a cocky tone, flipping a long strand of her gorgeous magenta hair.

"And make it double we made big bucks for our baby to be!" James embellished, leaning his back against his partner's.

"But you guys just revealed that you aren't really pregnant," interrupted Ash with a blank expression, pointing down at the exeggutor stitched pillow now covered in dirt on the ground.

Jessie and James paused, now exchanging their own interpretation of the blank stare. Then, Jessie gleamed back at the twerp and snarled out of annoyance. "That's beside the point!" she bellowed, stomping a foot. "What we meant_ was_-"

"Hey, you two stole my pillow!"

Hanging her mouth open in midair, Jessie was hit with another disruption. One that was even more insulting than questioning the little spin she and James put on their motto for the spur of the moment.

Unable to identify the woman who blurted out the heartbreak over her robbed itchy pillow, Jessie simply gazed out into the audience with a loud groan. "Like it matters! It wasn't a pretty one to begin with-"

"Jessie, you're allowing them to tarnish our motto just when we were on a roll!" cut in James, wanting badly to get on with it.

Sealing her lips shut, Jessie's eyes went wide and she blinked. "Oh, right. Where was I?"

And so adjusting her throat, Jessie inhaled a full breath and proceeded with their classic mantra.

"To protect the world from devastation!"

"To unite all peoples' within our nation!"

"To denounce the evils of truth and love!"

"To extend our reach to the stars above!"

"Jessie!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes twinkling with a wink.

"James!" he added, implementing his own unique romantic dash with a red rose.

"Team Rocket, blast off at the speed of light!"

"Surrender now or prepare to fight!"

Ending with a sad attempt at a cartwheel, Meowth threw himself in front of his posed teammates. "Meowth dat's right!"

While the rest of Team Rocket's slogan would have alerted crickets to chime in, the feline's little addition propelled a whole slew of gasps and repetitive questions from the rather shell-shocked audience.

"A-a talking Meowth?!" the agents heard someone declare.

"How is that possible?" a decent size of people yelled in astonishment.

Delighting in the citizens stumped questions, the cat snickered to himself and replied. "I'd be more dan happy to share with you simpletons, but right now I've got bigga fish to fry!"

His gesture led back to the wiggling Pikachu in Jessie's grip, his electric shocks proved to be useless against the resilient strength of her super protective gloves.

"Pikachu! Pika!" the mouse cried out, his voice fading into a pathetic whimper as his energy was growing short.

Stricken with fear and a fast beating pulse, Ash's teeth grinded in a ferocious hold and lashed out. "Give me back my Pikachu, you creeps! You do _not_ want to mess with me today!"

Ash meant that with every word. It was bad enough he had been bombarded with an overly vexed customer, an expected sarcastic and unbearable Gary, then to being accused of robbing other stands by none other than the town's very own windbag- Team Rocket snatching Pikachu and joyfully teasing him with their antics was _the_ last straw. Pikachu was obviously suffering from minor exhaustion, as if those dreadful gloves were zapping the mouse's natural power, his exuberant drive dwindling between every slowly decreasing spark of his rosy red cheeks.

Sneering at his attempt of a threatening face, Jessie scoffed. "You mean it? Ha!" she mocked with a boisterous cackle. "In your dreams twerp! We've worked too hard to get to this point!"

"Especially with da loot we swiped!" noted Meowth, his paws motioning up to the wallet resting in James's grasp.

As plain to see it was that Team Rocket was truly in possession of the stolen currency, their proclamation of blunt guilt impelled the large huddling to gasp simultaneously, two men in particular shaking their heads at the lunacy of it all.

"So they did steal the money!" stated Nolan, before eyeing Tom with a shameful look.

"We didn't just steal it," James soon corrected with a devilish smirk, "we tricked all of you into believing it was one of your own! Even though that part wasn't planned," he lingered with a nibbling of his fingers.

Desperately wanting to take full credit for the fluke, Jessie hurriedly hushed her partner with a shove. "That doesn't matter! The point is you idiots were fooled by top Team Rocket agents such as us. Dare I say it, but this mission was as easy as taking candy from a _baby_! Hahaha!"

Her profound laughter echoed throughout the area, all receiving chills down their spines.

As for Miles, he just shook his head again in astonishment, motioning to Tom. "Well, you now have a confession right there, Tom," he said with a twinge of scrutiny, folding his arms over his chest.

"This- this is absolute blasphemy!" Tom stuttered, ignoring Miles's mild jab to his overdone and rash diligence of solving the supposed case. He instead turned his focus to the grinning grunts, wagging a finger at them with a definite voice. "As town coordinator, selectman, _and _chairman of the council-"

"We don't care how many silly titles you have old man with the offensively outdated sweaters!" Jessie interjected, silencing him with an insult. "The cash and Pikachu are ours and we aren't giving any of it back."

Snorting at Team Rocket's explosive confidence, Brock finally threw his two cents in. "You guys have got be kidding yourself if you seriously think we're gonna let you have Pikachu and the money!"

"Then prepare to be disappointed, older twerp," James rebutted with arrogance, peering from the corner of his eye to signal his partner in crime.

"Go Arbok! Help Weezing get rid of these pests!"

With an elegant but fast throw of her pokeball, Jessie called upon her long sleek cobra, his vicious teeth showing themselves off to the now twice as startled spectators. The creature hissed at his feathered opponent, regally landing on the ground beside the floating toxic pokémon he constantly fought as a team with. As usual, Team Rocket wasn't making things easy for the trainers. Their only option now was to battle and _hopefully_ stay victorious as they had every other time while on the road. Only in this instance, the kids had a scared and watchful mob behind them, their skills and battle techniques being analyzed by the people who were _expecting_ them to send the robbers out of Pallet. Resting such responsibility in their hands was a little overwhelming, nevertheless, Ash was not the least bit intimated by the slithering snake and two spherical gaseous heads.

Positioning himself in a battle stance, Ash tightened his fist and held it up his chin. "If it's a battle you want, then it's a battle you'll get! Ready, guys?" he asked, looking from side to side.

Misty and Brock nodded at the same time, confirming Ash's question and at last releasing their chosen pokémon off of their 'belts.

"C'mon out, Staryu!" called out Misty, tossing the pokeball forward.

"You too, Geodude!" Brock shouted.

Two bright flashes of white light manifested as the water and rock Pokémon landed onto the road with a thud, both appearing energized and prepared for the danger facing them ahead.

Noticing all were ready, Ash took charge and commenced the battle with his own strategic plan in mind. "Pidegotto start things off with a sand attack!" he ordered, pointing towards the enemy's pokémon.

Cream colored wings settled closer to the ground, exhilarating their beats as a large gathering of upturned dirt was shot in the vision of Arbok and Weezing, both recoiling by the dust now splashed in their eyes and crusting over their closed eyelids. The impairment wasn't enough to warn Jessie and James and for them to make haste and surrender from the battle. And to no one's shock, James stepped up to the plate and ordered a counter attack.

"Weezing, sludge attack!"

The floating pair of heads repeatedly shook his heads, randomly spitting out blobs of virulent slime, the contents spewing and nearly missing a fluttering Pidgeotto and bouncing Geodude. In retaliation Misty found her moment to shine on the battlefield, taking advantage of Weezing's less than watchful eye of its master.

"Staryu," the redhead commanded, "knock James down with a rapid spin!"

James's eyes grew huge. "Wha- OWW!" But there was no time to react. As fast as the order came, James was hit with the five spinning sides of the aquatic creature, his feet stumbling backwards as a deep surge of pain traveled from his chest and into his gut. Sooner than later, his wobbling ended with a crash, clearly sending him into a disoriented state as Staryu whipped back around to its master with a sharp turn.

Ash instantly marveled at his friend's thoughtful and sneaky maneuver, watching the wallet now falling out of James's control and tumble onto the dusty road. "Nice goin', Mist!" he cheered, giving her a thumbs up.

"Thanks!" she grinned back with a playful wink.

Wanting to jump at the chance to seal their small victory, Brock intervened and did his part. "Geodude, grab the wallet!" he instructed, pointing at the desired item.

"Oh no, you don't!" Jessie snarled, her blood boiling at James's lack of attention. "Arbok go after that thing with poison sting!"

Fluid movements exhilarated across the sandy path, Arbok wriggling as his eyesight returned to its normal capability and his mouth suddenly launched multiple needle-like spits of venom. On the contrary, Brock was hardly unnerved by the deadly attack, not a single command pouring from his stiff mouth as Geodude hopped on back to his master. Even when the poison stings hit the solid creature in the back of the head he did not flinch, only sensing the shattering of the attack in little pops of explosions.

Gaping at the scene, Meowth felt a gasp hitch in the back of his throat. "I-it didn't work!"

To make matters worse, Arbok's lame attempt at lunging soon after ended in failure as well. In attempt to still successfully cease Geodude's journey to the twerps with the wallet, Arbok extended his body in a forceful spring forward, only to endure the assault of a swollen jaw by the quick stony fist of Geodude's mega punch.

Amazed by his pokémon's natural keen sense of attack, Brock cheered for the gravelly creature. "Good work, Geodude," he praised, the rock type placing the wallet at at his trainer's feet.

Cheeks turned bright red like a bleeding out strawberry, fists tightly bound in front of her as if she was about to unleash her very own tantrum attack, Jessie growled deeply, her nostrils flaring at the sight of the overjoyed twerps. She found their blunt rewarding of Geodude nerve grinding, proving once more that those pesky kids still had the upper hand somehow... In this instance, a type advantage.

Rising to his elbows and arching his back forward, James slowly crept out of his woozy state, his unsteady gaze looking up after hearing his partner's ever so familiar moan of frustration. "Relax Jessie," he said coolly, sounding halfway coherent, "we still have Pikachu."

"Not at dis rate we won't!" Meowth yelled out of panic.

Run dry by their few comments, Jessie lashed out her anger through stiff fingers and grappled Meowth's head with a harsh tug. The feline shrieked out of shock, his body dangling as Jessie gave him a little toss. "Then _you_ get in there and help!" Honestly with James nearly knocked out and Meowth continually making discouraging remarks, was she the only one still willing to continue the brawl?

Internally dreading his nomination to be cast into the skirmish Meowth went in with a brave face regardless, stretching his short furry arms out with sharp claws ready to wallop the oh so quietly confident rock type. "Meowth's comin' at you with a swipe attack!-"

Similar to Arbok, the cat's attack was ineffective- and also hurt Meowth's pride. Falling face first into the dirt, Meowth's lungs were filled with the flying dust abound and with watery eyes soon realized the damage he had caused to his severed nails. "Ahh!" the cat screeched, horrified at the sight of their rigidly chipped state. "My nails! My poifect nails!"

Brock of course paid no heed to Meowth's pitiful wails, taking Team Rocket's last pokémon out with his invincible comrade of a rock. "Geodude, hit Weezing with your mega punch!"

After fuzzily seeing the damage Geodude had so acutely caused to the cobra's puffy cheek, James forced himself into action mode. Unsteady feet rose and rushed towards his caught off guard Weezing, hurriedly reaching for something to prevent another downfall in their battle and to shield his pokémon. And he found that _something _in the nick of time. He raced a short distance, barely intervening as he struggled to balance the weight of the very heavy object. Then in one swing, he placed himself in the battle.

"Don't even try it!"

Stampeding in front Weezing, James held up his item of weapon and with a signal hurling punch from Geodude the now destroyed arbok coat-rack broke into hundreds of pieces. The thick pointed shards spread across the surrounding area, James now just holding the unevenly cut end of what was left.

"James you idiot!" Jessie soon bellowed her voice mixed with sadness and anger. "You ruined that beautiful coat-rack of mine!"

"It's not like you could afford it anyway!" he countered, flinching at her abrasive and encroaching presence.

There was no time to give a proper mourning to the beloved coat-rack to Jessie's dismay, her attention diverting from a cowering James to the Pidgeotto flapping so calmly in midair. If she couldn't take her rage out of her partner, then torturing the twerp was the next best thing.

"Arbok, strike at Pidgeotto with wrap!"

The snake followed orders without a complaint, forgetting to nurse his bloated jaw and instead threw himself right back into the clash.

Reacting quickly, Ash made his command. "Pidgeotto fly up!"

But it was too late. The tip of Arbok's purple tail swiftly clung around the midsection of Pidgeotto's stomach, for the bird was flying just low enough for the snake to ensnare him in his grasp. Out of pain and the increasing compressing of his feathery gut, Pidgeotto let out a long cry, his body squirming as he tried to escape.

Jessie placed her hands on her hips and let out another fiendish giggle. "Sorry twerp. Looks like your bird will fill in as my Arbok's next meal for the day!"

Ash could feel the tightness swell in his mouth again, his two rows of teeth shut in an intense clutch. No way was he going to stand there and allow Team Rocket not only to _nab _Pikachu but _suck_ the life out of Pidgeotto too! They were his pokémon, his friends!- they mattered so much to him the boy couldn't even begin to describe how powerful their presence had become on him as a trainer. So meaningful to him, Ash was about ready to literally entangle himself in the middle of the battle.

To the easing of the spectators beating hearts, _especially_ Delia's, Misty meddled hastily with her water type's most powerful move. "That's what you think!" she hollered, catching Jessie in the midst of her giggling fit by surprise. "Staryu use water gun on Arbok!"

Staryu tipped its top point forward and shot the stream of surging water at the cobra's restricted tail, though Jessie was not at all prepared to let them win this one, taking over the commands with James's own pokémon.

"Weezing, stop her with your!-"

"Fire blast: NOW!"

Out of nowhere, an overwhelming holler boomed down the road and with that came the unforeseen flash of orange and black. The crowds' gazes followed the massive creature up until it glided and landed with a small rumble against the earth. There stood a fully grown and elegantly groomed arcanine, hunched down in a fighting stance as he growled fiercely. His large white teeth showed themselves to Team Rocket, his mouth gradually opening as a burst of hot red flames began to manifest from inside.

Both the pokémon and their criminal owners cringed at the impending flaming clout, just enough to allow Pidgeotto the chance to peck savagely at Arbok's curled tail in order to flee. By doing so a harp hiss fell from the snake's mouth, the creature retracting as Pidgeotto flew onward and swooped down. The increasingly large fiery ball in Arcanine's mouth had grown dramatically in mere seconds, prompting Ash to order his final move. To save Pikachu.

"Pidgeotto, grab Pikachu before that fire blast hits you both! HURRY!"

One skillful sweep down, Pidgeotto latched his talons around the back of the rodent's neck, picking Pikachu up by the scruff to haul him to safety. Unfortunately, Jessie was refusing to let go. It wasn't until she saw the blast of a searing stream of flames blazing her way did she release her treasured catch for the day and realize Pikachu was sadly, unobtainable. Once again, Team Rocket met their fate by soaring impeccable heights, screaming thanks to the burning impact as their infamous line was cried out like a broken record. Their mumbles about failure and disappointing Giovanni were unintelligible at this point, for they flew onward into the fluffy clouds, eventually disappearing with a traditional twinkle in the big blue sky. After that, outright hurrahs of acclaims were born down in the road.

Stretching his arms out, Pikachu at last landed securely in Ash's hold and he hugged his cooing mouse closely with a huge smile of relief and glee. He then reached a hand up to caress the head of his faithful bird for all his hard work, feeling his chocolate eyes become a tad watery out of the pure happiness he was hit with. Though something in the corner of Ash's eye distracted him momentarily, halting any tears from formation.

As if needing to take a double take to ensure his eyes were not deceiving him, there was Gary amongst the swarm, calling back his Arcanine and praising the giant dog for his brilliant efforts.

Then an unanticipated action happened. He grinned very faintly and nodded back at Ash.

* * *

By the regrouping and fervent insisting of Tom that all was well once again, the zany little town of Pallet went back to its usual routine.

The sale drew to a close. The entire town relieved the bumbling thugs known as Team Rocket were out of sight and out of reach of their settlement. Ash and the others had returned the money back to his thankful mother and the robbed men, and with all the bills accounted for Tom was more than tickled pink to announce the overall profit of every seller's amount combined. As a group they had outdone themselves. At last, a new welcome sign of Pallet could be funded and designed, ending the hectic day on a jovial note. The few items leftover from the sale were hauled back to everyone's dwelling, in hopes of saving them for another big extravaganza, whatever the fundraising may be the following year. Tom was already dreaming up that next shindig, considering what part of town needed a severe makeup to put the funds to use.

Before he could allow himself to become too elated however, Tom was still faced with the daunting task of executing_ thorough_ and _groveling_ apologies. With a stern eye and tapping foot, Delia silently made sure the older man gave her son and his friends an appropriate apology. After all, they_ saved_ the town from the villainous trio as well as returned all the cash without a single bill missing. Thankfully, hardly a fuss was made afterwards. The kids accepted Tom's attempt at admitting fault on his part, as well as receiving a more humble apology from Nolan and Miles. Ash and his companions were simply pleased that they and Delia were no longer the prime suspects and could go about knowing that their names were indeed cleared. That and to Nolan's concerned persistence, expressed he was _not_ interested in Delia in a romantic sense. Ash especially, was assured of this.

All in all, the trainers' courageousness was so immensely appreciated and outweighed the big misunderstanding from earlier, that the town awarded the trainers' brave efforts with a thunderous applause and admiration to their loyal creatures. To also redeem himself for his idiocy, Tom went as far as to be the classic brown-noser he was, suggesting they'd mark this day with the remembrance of the valiant trainers and pokémon that dueled with the "dangerous" thugs and in the end, brought sanctuary back to Pallet. Needless to say, while they kids' confidence grew during the heightened cheers of the town, Tom's proposal was a tad theatrical and unnecessary.

As for the rest of the townsfolk, cars were packed full and traveling back their designated homes. Ash and his companions volunteered to load the minimal remaining articles for Delia, while she was in the midst of aiding her own mother. They had boxed up all the small pieces, and from there loaded the crib with Brock inside the bed of truck holding one side, as Ash and Misty stayed on the ground while wobbly gliding the heavy piece of furniture until it was securely strapped in. After that, the kids took a moment to savor the early evening breeze, admiring the turning of the skies colors as they sucked in a breath of relief that Pikachu was back save in Ash's arms. Ash stroked his little friend continuously, beaming a bright smile of thankfulness as Pikachu buried himself within Ash's chest. He laughed lightly at this, his bliss glowing from his radiant face.

"Well, all's well that ends well," remarked Brock as he climbed over the side of the bed and jumped gracefully onto the ground with a dusting off of his pants.

"Thank goodness for that!" exclaimed Misty as she held Togepi, thoroughly run down from the day's craziness. "I hate to admit it, but Team Rocket really threw everyone for a loop with their disguises and tactics."

Ash flashed his gaze up, his now cheeky smile growing at the redhead near him. "They still weren't smart enough to get away without making a scene though," he said, the electric rodent scurrying up on top of his shoulder. "And, it's a good thing Jessie wasn't_ really_ pregnant," he dared to remark. The image alone gave him nightmares.

Misty huffed. "You can say that again. Like we need more of_ them_ around."

Picturing Jessie and James with a little one on the way... _yikes_ was all she could muster from her thoughts. Perhaps the girl was being biased based upon she and her friends' less than pleasant encounters with the grunts, not assessing the possible unhatched potential the thieves could have regarding parenting skills. But by their harebrained schemes and repetitive acts of crime, it was any wonder Misty wasn't thrilled with the concept of a baby Team Rocket agent.

And Brock concurred.

"They're not exactly what I'd call parent material," he chimed in, as if quietly contemplating the random topic himself.

"They're not exactly _pokémon trainer_ material either!" Ash threw in for good measure, sweat-dropping.

In all seriousness despite their sarcastic bites against the daft agents, Brock couldn't get his mind off something that surprisingly happened during their battle. He had toyed with the thought on and off since the packing up process started, and with an unbiased view he finally admitted the talent he vividly saw.

"Yeah, but you know who proved himself today? Gary," he said definitely, stroking his chin with a slightly amazed looked. "His arcanine sure was impressive."

The remembrance of the intense blazing attack also caught Misty's attention, she too finding it hard to dismiss the extraordinary move that had left a big impact on Gary's overall helpful intrusion. "That fire blast was pretty powerful to send Team Rocket soaring like that," commented the redhead, before throwing a sly eye at her young friend. "He must have been training _a lot_ these last couple of weeks. You know, _preparing_ for the league."

Hearing the tone of her dig led to Ash's dark eyebrows furrowing, his mouth releasing a defensive comeback without much thought. "I'm working hard too!" he felt the need to clarify loudly.

But Misty just waved impassively. "Sure, sure."

Feeding into her jabs of teasing Ash allowed a growl to slip. He was just as great of a trainer as Gary! Besides,_ he_ was the one who behaved maturely today, compared to the nonsense his rival tried to stir up not only with him, but his companions. The irritated boy kept his fists clenched at his sides, ready to blow some more steam at Misty until the sound of a calmer voice broke his peeved focus.

"Misty does make a point though, Ash," agreed Brock blandly, folding his arms over his chest. "His presence may not always be a welcoming one, but it was a good thing he interfered when he did in getting Team Rocket outta here. Plus, now you know what kind of competitor he'll be like if you have to battle him at the league."

Silently... Ash concurred. So Gary was definitely not his favorite person in the world, nor if he had a choice to be stranded with someone on an island his rival would not be his first pick. However, the cocky brunette and his extravagantly groomed canine had hindered Team Rocket's malicious acts with one powerfully hot fire blast attack. Not only were the criminals sent high in the air, but Ash was also able to have Pikachu return to the safe corridors of his arms. Appearing indebted for Gary's aid sounded rather... odd. Almost to the point where Ash _didn't_ want to admit his thankfulness and that his rival was even capable of being kind. Not after the stunt he pulled that morning. But Ash's heart was telling him otherwise, telling him to do something he would never imagine doing.

Lingering chocolate eyes scrutinized a dark maroon car, Ash's gaze wavering between the vehicle and the two people close by. "Hey um- I'll be right back guys," Ash at last declared, feet beginning to move.

There was no protest or questioning in Ash's abrupt journey across the road. He was relieved of that, already feeling anxious and hesitant to what he was about to do. No obligation was indicated for him to approach Gary, yet he felt compelled to do so, swearing he'd hit himself in the head if the result was what he was anticipating.

Swallowing, Ash waved a hand in the air and called. "Gary? Gary wait!"

Ash's rival appeared to be making his leave with his mother, them too collecting any remaining belongings that did not catch a buyer's eye. Luckily, Ash's hollering was noticed and acknowledge instead of ignored as he expected. Whipping his head up, Gary was shocked to find Ash bounding towards him. Scrunching his face, befuddlement was illustrated in his green eyes.

Steadily, he glanced to Annie. "Uh Mom, I'll be a sec."

Distracted by the task of stacking boxes, the blonde mother nonchalantly answered. "Okay, hon."

Brusquely, his eyes met Ash's across the way, standing a short distance apart as the dark haired boy caught his breath. With a fixed frown, Gary studied him for a moment wondering what on earth Ash would want with him. On most occasions, it seemed Ash intentionally avoided him, and as to why Gary perfectly knew. Personally, after a brief lecture from dear ol' Grandpa, Gary didn't want much to do with Ash either. Not with the league coming up and Sam holding a very serious threat over his head that no "mankey business" would stir up while he waited to take off for the Indigo Plateau. Otherwise, Gary could kiss the chances at competing goodbye. It was most likely just a bluff to keep him out of trouble after today's escapades, but the brunette didn't want to take the risk. Unless, they were just small jeers and no one was watching...

"What is it Ash?" Gary flatly asked, looking to the panting boy with a raised brow.

Uncomfortable was written across Ash's face, his upper body squirming as the bill of his league cap tipped forward. "I just uh-" A gulp proceeded. The start of regret set in. Here went nothing_._ "I just wanted to say thanks," Ash declared, at last holding Gary's eyes. "For saving Pikachu with Arcanine's help. We were in a real bind and I... I appreciate it."

Though to Gary's seeking of attention, he didn't get the standing-ovation that he hoped for. It was more of an acclamation for all four trainers, hardly sufficing Gary's inflated-ego. But this... this surely was interesting. Never in his wildest dreams did the trainer imagine Ash Ketchum would walk up to him all on his own, and _personally thank_ his rival for intruding when he did. Considering all the bickering and heckling that materialized between Punchy Patton, the trike, and the crib Gary believed Ash wouldn't even give him a second glance let alone be genuinely appreciative. And as for Gary's actions- It wasn't that the boy was _plagued_ was guilt, propelling his action to defeat Team Rocket. It wasn't like he _cared_ that Ash appeared to forgive him without expecting an apology first from him, that would just be laughable, preposterous!... Yet, Gary's intention had to be for the greater good. To set differences aside when a restrained pokémon was in dire need of a hero.

_Right?_

"I was just donin' it for the town," Gary shrugged matter-of-fact, adding a confident flip of his hair. "Besides, I needed a good warm-up before I go trainin' this evening. And- I guess you guys held them off pretty well yourself," he hesitantly complimented, gesturing another tousle of his bangs to Ash.

It was too much of an awkward flattery to allow the conversation to bloom, causing Gary to quickly move along at the sound of the rear door slamming shut on his mother's car. "Well, my mom's waiting," he announced in a blasé tone, moving with a wink and a snobbish wave. "Smell ya at the Pokémon League, Ash!"

Ash huffed to himself, a very tiny grin forming as the car started up and turned before speeding off. Gary's reply wasn't anything like what he anticipated. And while it still wasn't much, a shimmer of something in his rival made Ash glad about that.

_See you at the league, Gary. And if we do battle, I'll know it'll be- a good match. _

He continued to watch the car zoom further and further down the road, his hands shoved in his jean pockets. Pikachu gently rubbed his cheek against Ash's, the boy erupting in soft chuckles as he stroked his little buddy behind a long ear. Gary was still not his first pick to do anything with... but maybe, the kid had enough goodness in his heart for Pikachu's welfare. And that's all that mattered to Ash.

Their silent moment together against the bright glimmer of the setting sun was suddenly cut short. What felt like fingers grazed Ash's free shoulder, his eyes widening as he was caught by surprise. Peering over his shoulder, he found Brock smiling faintly at him with Misty right there beside, also sporting a pleased expression. How long had they been standing there? Hopefully not for too long for Ash's already rocky confidence.

"You did the right thing Ash," Brock said, patting his young friend on the shoulder before drawing away.

"Huh?" Ash blinked. "Whada ya mean, Brock?"

"How you handled things with Gary today," the aspiring breeder expanded. "Misty and I were really impressed with you."

"We couldn't have been prouder," the redhead added sincerely.

_Prouder?_ A streak of blush graced Ash's cheeks and ears, his head and neck sinking into his encroaching shoulders. So they were sincerely impressed? Impressed with the fact that instead of getting mad and turning red as a tomato, Ash calmly but assertively handled the bullying tactics of Gary Oak? Apparently, Ash yearned for more than just the basic wish for a pair of kind and faithful friends. He earned a pair of dedicated, supportive, and admirable friends, as if they were figures in his life that the boy could look to for guidance and approval. Friends who would stick together in the worst circumstances, and be there when advice or a listening ear was needed. They had proven to be such through all their tribulations regarding Team Rocket, through all their adventures of meeting fellow trainers and pokémon, to every gym badge pinned on Ash's vest. Brock and Misty were true kindred spirits he could count on no matter what. And Ash wouldn't have wanted them to be any other way. Even if, _to a point_, they did fill in as... his coaches in more than just battling.

"Geez, you guys are starting to sound like you're my parents or something," he mumbled, embarrassed eyes diverting to the side.

"Well, we do look out for you _a lot_," rebutted Misty truthfully, with a twinge of mischievousness in her voice. "Brock washes your clothes, cooks you meals- and I call you out on your behavior."

A sarcastic snort emerged. "More like berate me."

First, Misty's eyebrows twitched at Ash's sassy comeback, but her irritation smoldered as she threw a puzzled eye at him. "Where did you learn what berate means?" she asked incredulously.

"From _you_," Ash boldly cracked, returning the girl with a smirk.

The girl's frown deepened. "Don't get cheeky with me, Mr. Pokémon Master. Remember, you_ still_ owe me a _new_ bike!"

With an arched back, Ash leaned away from Misty as her nose came close to his, her index finger poking harshly against his chest. How he could _ever_ forget about Misty's prized bike? Too bad for her it'd be quite a while before he could scrounge up the cash to actually _afford_ one. Twiddling his thumbs, nervous chocolate eyes danced away from Misty. Then, he slipped a goofy grin. "Uh, do you think my old trike would suffice 'til I can get you a real one?"

Sean-green eyes narrowed.

_Nice try._

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

An eruption of laughter ensued as Misty's fingers harmlessly worked their way onto Ash's stomach, his voice roaring as he batted her away between shuffling feet. The trainers' chortles and cries faded in the wind, but were evident to the ears of those still in the vicinity. Lifting one last box steadily into the bed of her pickup truck, Leah and Delia finally finished packing. Leah had sold a great deal of her antiques like her daughter, only three medium sized boxes would be carted back to her country home, compared to the nearly ten boxes she started off with that morning. Luckily, none of it consisted of the precious tools Ernest hoarded for the longest time.

Shutting the gate of Leah's truck, the women were abruptly stalled from their completed work. Delia had requested to talk with Tom privately after his apology to the children, for he still owned her one. She wasn't going to pussy-foot around after being so blatantly exonerated, and Delia certainly wasn't going to let Tom get off so easily without holding him accountable for his actions.

Twiddling his thumbs briefly, the man in the plain sweater begrudgingly coughed up his final apology for the day. Eyes darted away from Delia's stern gaze, a sigh falling from Tom's mouth as he began. "On behalf of Nolan, Miles, and Mrs. Abbot, I am sorry to say that we jumped the gun on this one, Delia... We should have considered our suspects more carefully before assuming you and the children."

That was on the lines of what she hoped to hear. Actually, Delia had already received apologies from the others earlier on, their words more sincere than that of the reluctantly mumbling Tom. But the woman took what she could realistically get.

"I accept your apology, Tom. As long as it_ never_ happens again," Delia made sure to remind with a sharp tone.

"Rest assured, it will not!" he insisted speedily, waving his hands up. His loose grin tightened for a moment, his upper body bending down as he reached towards the ground for a large box with rectangular handle. It seemed however, his focus was purposely trailing elsewhere, glancing behind as if feeling entitled to excuse himself.

"Well then," the older man started again, patting the front of the box, "I think I better place these earnings somewhere for safekeeping. See you-"

Delia raised a firm but calm hand. "Hold on a minute, Tom. I wasn't finished."

Behaving a like child, Tom moaned softly and turned on his feet, pouting with a frown as he dreaded to hear any more talk of his mishap. When he sensed that Delia knew of this though, he straightened his posture and nodded for her to go on.

"Along with your heartfelt apology, I would like a favor done."

At first, Tom's mouth fell open wanting to declare how absolutely ridiculous her request sounded. But between Delia's unwavering look and the scowl he was receiving from Leah... He decided to comply.

"If you must," he caved in with a heavy sigh.

"I don't want Sheldon as my mailman anymore," Delia said definitively, placing her hands on her hips. "I would prefer to have Marvin back."

After that, a long pause was born. It was evident Tom was tempted to let his mouth fly, but to the women's surprise, he wisely kept his lips glued shut suppressing the urge to unleash whatever thoughts were developing in his mind... Or at least, shorten his tantrum of rebellion.

"..._Fine_. Be stubborn!" he blurted, making it appear as if she was the uncooperative one. "Never mind my intentions of trying to put you with an upstanding and law-biding citizen who knows his mail-"

"I'm not interested Tom."

All Delia cared about was receiving her mail in one piece, and knowing her mail carrier didn't feel inclined to flirt with her every time he rolled in on his company bike. Marvin never asked her when she was available for dinner, only made polite chitchat about her blooming flowers before moving along to the next house. He had been her mailman since well, since she moved into that house and was always courteous and on time with dropping off packages. Sheldon kept a fairly decent schedule too with bringing the mail by, only he felt the strange need to jump off his bike and go out of his way to incessantly ring Delia's doorbell. Then the _long_ conversations ensued ranging from how pretty she looked that day to how he made sure the package was transported without enduring any damage. Delia even went as far as to discreetly close the door inch by inch during their chats. It seemed however, the coquettish man wasn't getting the message, leaving Delia with no other option but not to answer the door. And so, when she wouldn't answer simply because she was not home or that she was avoiding his invitations to dinner yet again, he'd leave a note saying she had to go out of her way and stop by at the local post office to retrieve her mail. Then, he'd be there- _waiting_. Delia knew from the get-go this was Tom's doing. His bizarre concept of kindness by "hooking her up" with a man he deemed as an adequate suitor, regardless that she _never _asked for him to play matchmaker in the first place!

The odds were in Delia's favor this time though, minus the fact that the woman disliked asking things from others let alone blackmail someone! Her thin patience was telling her otherwise, setting her moral views aside for Tom did deserve to pay the price for his foolishness.

"If you insist, then you'll have Marvin back by the start of next week," Tom decided his unwillingness evident with a roll of his eyes.

But that wouldn't do.

Putting her fight face on, Delia folded her arms.

"_Tomorrow_."

An arch of two full gray brows followed. Apparently, Delia wasn't kidding. Out of character she appeared to be; then again, Tom supposed it took a lot to fully rally whatever minimal amount of anger the woman had stowed away for times like this.

Huffing under his breath once more, the older man complied. "All right. Tomorrow._ Until then_, ladies," he waved with a twirl.

The women watched him walk off with his head held high as always. Both silently hoping he'd keep his promise or Leah was certain with how wound up her daughter was, she'd come down to the post office of his and give him that testy glare she was wearing so well. A look she inherited from Ernest.

Eventually, Leah shook her head and sighed. "That man never ceases to amaze me," she said.

"That man needs his _head_ examined," Delia threw back wittily, still slightly bitter by the accusations.

Caught off guard by her snappy comeback, Leah raised a playful eyebrow. "Watch yourself, dear," she nudged her daughter's arm. "You're starting to sound like _your father_."

"Yes well, my remark warrants it this time." By the minimal joking, Leah was able to loosen Delia up a bit, a faint laugh transforming into a deep breath of solace. "Oh, I am just beyond relieved everything was sorted out! I would have never thought Tom would go as far as he did to accuse me and the kids."

"That was a new low for him indeed," agreed her mother, she herself having difficulty processing his actions. So much, she was quelling her own need to confront Tom. "Don't worry about it though Delia. I'm not done having a few choice words with _him_," she eyed specifically, still observing the man moseying down the road as if he got away scot-free.

Appreciative of her want to intervene, Delia hurriedly squashed her mom's maternal urge. "Mom _really_, you don't have to-"

"No, I do. Remember, _I'm_ a mom too," Leah shot back with a smile and a side hug, knowing very well how independent her daughter tended to be. "Normally I wouldn't condone this, but after the grieve Tom's given you I'd milk him for a few more favors if I were you."

"Maybe I will!" Delia laughed lightly, the whisper alone surprising the woman of her mother's rare mischievous side.

Lighthearted giggles broke out as fast as the suddenly lessened, Delia's eyes softly entranced with something much more worthwhile then bombarding Tom with silly requests. Leah observed Delia's staring ahead with her arms now wrapped around herself, the older woman soon looking forward too to discover her daughter was gazing at none other than the precious boy they were frantically looking for earlier.

"Ash has proved he's come along way after today," commented the boy's grandmother, referring to the earlier fiasco Team Rocket brewed. "He's going to do well at the Pokémon League."

Delia breathed through her nose. "Yes, yes he will."

"He takes after both of you, you know."

A side glance was thrown to her mom, Delia pausing until she allowed a tiny smile to slip. "He does..."

That the young mother couldn't deny. Every time she looked into her son's eyes, Delia saw a similar shade of her own, the one prominent physical feature they shared. But when she peered deeper into Ash... she saw him. All the beautiful, amazing, absolutely wonderful things that made Delia love the man she married and now her son inherited such strong and ardent characteristics. Similar to his father in seeking freedom, craving exploration -but different still. Being an even blend of the two, Ash was his own unique person, a real gem in his mother's eyes.

"And overall, I think the sale turned out to be a big success," Leah suddenly said, breaking Delia's trance. "Tom certainly can't stop talking about it. Now he wants to raise money and have tour-guides of the town's most "prosperous businesses". I'm sure your father will be _delighted_ to partake in that."

Irresistible laughter flew from Delia's mouth, cuffing her giggles with a hand. Oh yes. Ernest would be _undeniably_ delighted to have a crowd watch him as if he was part of an exhibit with flashing cameras too boot, as strangers strolled through his farm and distracted him and his hand-workers from actually accomplishing something. That would totally fly with the farmer.

Ending her spurt of chortles, Delia centered herself and proceeded with the conversation. "We did sell a lot but... it's kind of a shame no one bought the crib," she mused with lowered brows, eyes gleaming in direction of the object. "I really thought someone would need it, not Team Rocket just stringing me along." She had been thinking about that crib since the thugs blasted off into the puffy white clouds above, disappointed that no one would find use in the perfectly intact furniture. On the brighter side, Delia could say the opposite about the coat-rack. Its combustion into shards wasn't a great loss, rather an ironic relief from the pain that "luxury" piece of furniture had befallen upon her eyes.

"Maybe it just wasn't the right time, dear," replied Leah thoughtfully, her gaze drifting up towards the beautiful sky above.

Delia's hand clenched near her chest, perplexity bursting in her mind as she gave her mother an odd look. "What do you mean?"

The wonderment in her daughter's voice caused Leah to break out of her tranquil trance, blinking back as she felt herself being caught off guard. "Oh just- well, you never know Delia," she started evenly, eyes drifting down the road. "On the off chance... you might need it someday."

Her words led to Delia's lips pursing in deeper confusion, but before a croak could emerge Leah quickly moved the conversation along. "So I'll see you and kids tomorrow?" she said, almost sounding a tad rushed.

"Oh, uh-huh," her daughter answered, trying not to read into her mother's movements and words too deeply. "Have a good evening, Mom."

"You too, sweetie."

And with that, Leah climbed into the vehicle and with a reveal of jingling keys started up the engine. From there, Delia watched the green truck drive off into the distance, clouds of dust and exhaust mingling in the air as she gave a final wave to her mother. Then, as Delia laid her arm back at her side, her focus turned back to the crib settled in the bed of her truck. Whether Leah's words were an implication that Delia would eventually give the crib to another woman or perhaps the inconceivable... She decided to purposefully leave off of that thought with a motherly smile, bittersweet inclinations romanticizing her deepest wishes. Sure it was wild, outrageously hopeful, and _highly_ unlikely but the girl could dream, couldn't she? A family of four was ideal since the beginning, though the woman would give anything just to have the reuniting and establishing of a threesome household again.

If one thing was for certain, Delia had one person to always look after and love unconditionally. Her little Pokémon Master to be, who she wouldn't trade for anyone or anything in the world. Her soft expression beamed elegantly against the shining fading rays of the sun, her heart rupturing with content and merriment as she watched her son and his friends roar with laughter and carefree chatter. Such a lively, spirited, adventurous, and goodhearted son she had, one she knew would forever make her proud and grateful for. Delia was utterly at peace with the time they shared during Ash's break, through all the ups and down and everything in between.

And all those little treasures she kept... in the end they were more than just keepsakes. They had proven through Ash to be the physical display of his impeccable growth throughout the years, and Delia was more than happy to embrace any new tokens that would mark her son's next spurt of blooming maturity.

Eventually, Delia readied herself and began her walk across the dirt road, and with the soon to be pleasant call of her son's name, she would have to momentarily burst his innocent fun.

"Ash, honey!"

The boy immediately perked up at the sound of his mother's voice. A smile forming in her direction, one that made Delia grin widely at. Oh, how she hated to spoil that natural glow he bore so effortlessly. Nevertheless, Delia proceeded with a nervous foreboding note in her voice.

"I have some surprising news to tell you. Guess who we're having dinner with on Sunday?"

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N Count.:** And there you have it! :) _Junk of the Heart_ has finally come to a close. It's been a pleasure writing this sweet and funny little fic on the side while working on _Sunlight's Return_. It took me quite a while to complete it between college and my personal life, but I am glad to say I accomplished it within the year! ^^; This story of course is dedicated to my amazing beta reader and all the hard work she had poured into helping me. :D I hope it was all you were expecting, and I immensely appreciate your ongoing support of my work and being an overall amazing friend. You're the best!

As for now I will be solely focusing on _Sunlight's Return_, churning out as my chapters as I can before my zany college life starts up again. I also have been working on a Pokeshipping oneshot on the side (in the oneshot they are young adults), so _maybe_ I will finish and post it. Please let me know if you guys are interested! I'll probably post it eventually, regardless, but it's good to hear if any of you are interested.

Thank you all once again for checking out this fic and I look forward to hearing your final thoughts. Until next time with another Ketchum family themed tale! ^_^


End file.
